


Harry Potter and the One Good Year

by EliteDelieght, punkrockbadger



Series: rewrite potter [13]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Canon Rewrite, Gen, Hufflepuff Neville, The Potters Live, Torture & injury warning for last chapter, depictions of ptsd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-04-23 08:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 68,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4870831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliteDelieght/pseuds/EliteDelieght, https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockbadger/pseuds/punkrockbadger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After three years of trouble, Harry Potter is ready to settle down and enjoy his last year at Hogwarts without siblings following him around. His best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, are hoping this commitment to good behavior is a new beginning, but Harry Potter’s life never manages to stay quiet for long. There’s a storm brewing, and sooner or later, it’s going to hit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 55 Days Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of this chapter, the Rewrite Potter Universe is officially over 200,000 words long. The fact that we've managed this in less than a year and a half since starting work on it astounds me daily, and I'm so proud of us for writing it, and all of you for reading it and sticking with us. 
> 
> I know Lai is just as thrilled as I am that we've made it this far in this short a time, and that all of you are along for the ride!! Hopefully this means that more good things are to come!!
> 
> Thanks a lot for everything and let's make the next 200k just as good as this one!! :) 
> 
> -S&L

It was the middle of August, and Harry Potter was not grounded.  
  
For a normal fourteen year old, this wouldn’t be such a big deal, but Harry Potter was no ordinary fourteen year old.  
  
Within the past three years, he’d protected the Sorcerer’s Stone from the half-dead spirit of a bigoted mass murderer, saved his classmates from a possessed diary and the giant snake it was using as a weapon, and passed Potions three whole times, which was a miracle, considering the teacher hated his guts. And, of course, he was a wizard, but that was hardly a surprise to most people.  
  
This streak of good behavior was confusing his family as much as Harry himself, and he often found his parents staring at him strangely, as if they were anticipating that he would do something ridiculous, and the slowly mounting number of days on the kitchen chalkboard could finally go down to zero. Even the usual visit to the Dursleys had gone off without a hitch this year, although that may have been partly because Harry had blown up his Uncle Vernon’s sister like a balloon the last time he was there.  
  
Harry, needless to say, was starting to get worried.  
  
“Fifty-five days, Anne.” He said, staring at the blackboard. He wouldn’t have believed it if it wasn’t right in front of him-- in his mother’s handwriting, under the heading “Days Since Our Last Nonsense”, was the number fifty-five, too neat to be anything else. “Fifty-five days, and none of us have done anything weird.”  
  
Anne, who was balanced atop one of the kitchen chairs as she stuck glow-in-the-dark stars to the blackboard, let out a hum of acknowledgment. “Who d’you think is gonna mess it up first?” She asked.  
  
“I was going to bet on me, but I don’t know about that anymore.” Harry scratched his head. “Charu’s too deep in her books. Madhav wouldn’t hurt a fly. That’s you and Adi left, then.”  
  
“My money is on Adi.” Anne said, looking down at her oldest brother. “He’s been itching to get his hands on a broom, and this is the first sunny day in weeks.”  
  
“Yeah, but Appa’s home, so he won’t get busted.” Harry frowned. Amma would be changing that fifty-five to fifty-six after dinner, and then they’d have an even bigger number to contend with. They’d never gotten over twenty-two before, during the summers, so everyone was quite surprised. Uncle Sirius had even taken a picture of it, during Saturday evening dinner, claiming it was a miracle that would never happen again. Harry, privately, was hoping he was right. This was just too much. “You have anything planned?”  
  
“No.” Anne said, sounding honestly disappointed. “Amma said if we get into too much trouble she won’t let us go to the Quidditch World Cup, since she’s already nervous about the whole thing.”  
  
“Appa was saying the same, except he was waving the thayir karandi around like it was some sort of weapon or something.” Harry nodded. His father had been reminded several times within the last week to put the yogurt ladle down before talking to people, yet he never seemed to remember. And, somehow, even that wasn’t enough to qualify for the board getting erased. Although, that might have been because Appa had been doing that for years, and everyone was just used to it.  
  
“Maybe we can do something at the Cup! It’ll be big! Fireworks!” Anne threw out her arms, wobbling dangerously on the chair.  
  
“Get down, you could get hurt.” Harry quickly pulled Anne off the chair, groaning as he let go of her. “Oh no. We’re all do gooders now. It’s our worst nightmare.”  
  
“As if.” Anne scoffed, picking up the stars that had fallen out of her hands when Harry pulled her down off the chair. “If we were we’d be off looking for Madhav with Appa and Amma.”  
  
“True.” Harry nodded. Matt tended to go missing far too often for anyone’s comfort. Another thing that would, in any other household, lead to the board getting erased. But Matt was like their father-- too set in his ways for anyone to even consider him changing them. “He’ll turn up. Madhu’s never missing for long.”  
  
“Oh, good, you’re here.” Sarah said as she entered the kitchen, sounding quite relieved. Quidditch through the Ages was tucked under her arm, and Harry was quite glad that she was actually reading something educational for once, instead of the usual parade of books like “Major Arithmancy Developments in the Twentieth Century” and “Herbology for the Attentive Student“. Did I miss anything?”  
  
“Board’s still at fifty-five.” Harry said mournfully, pointing at the chalkboard. Sarah looked quite put off, obviously having hoped it would have been taken down to zero by now. “I don’t know what we did to deserve this.”  
  
“Honestly, I’m getting bored, but I don’t want to miss the Cup.” Sarah sighed, shaking her head. Even books could only keep Sarah busy for so long before she started feeling the need to make some mischief as well, a need which Harry’s mother had been loudly maintaining must be coded into the Potter genes for years. “We’ve got to suffer through, and then, on the twenty-third, we can pull out all the stops.”  
  
“I want fireworks.” Anne said decisively. “My one condition. For right now. I’ll tell you if I think of anything else important.”  
  
“We can do fireworks.” Sarah nodded, a thoughtful look on her face. Harry could practically see the gears turning in her head-- there was a plan forming, and whatever it was, his parents weren’t going to like it. Perfect. “Fred and George were mentioning they had extras. If we tell them it’s for a noble cause, they’ll likely give us some.”  
  
“A truly noble cause.” Harry nodded. When put together, his sisters could be a terror, and hopefully that was enough to get everything back to normal. “Appa doesn’t do well with loud noises, though, so we’ve got to let him in on it beforehand.”  
  
“Good point.” Sarah nodded. “Amma doesn’t either, so the fireworks might not be too great, if we’re planning to surprise them. I doubt they’d appreciate that, and you know how Appa gets when we scare him.”  
  
“Yeah.” Harry said, shaking his head. Appa tended to get all quiet and disappear into his study for hours on end, when scared, and seeing his mother scared, after the events of the last school year, was not something Harry wanted to do ever again. Best to avoid it as much as possible. “No fireworks without warning. We can do them after, to celebrate the board being at zero again.”  
  
“We can probably find earplugs somewhere, and hand them out. The booms would probably scare Matt, too.” Anne frowned.  
  
“Probably.” Sarah nodded. “Madhav’s scared of just about everything.”  
  
“You’ve been looking out for him at school, right?” Harry asked. “No trouble with the other kids?”  
  
“I dropped a whole stack of books on top of Mary Ghezzi cause she was chasing him around the playground!” Anne announced proudly. “And Adi helped me put tuna in Kevin’s cubby! It smelled disgusting!”  
  
“Doug Mallison asked me why Madhav was weird, so I stapled his hand to his homework.” Sarah smirked, obviously proud of herself. This was entirely understandable coming from Sarah, given that, on her very first day of school, she had kicked a boy in the balls for talking to her. Now, only a month away from entering Year Six, Sarah had only gotten more adept at hiding her part in things. “Didn’t pick a fight after that, though, so I’m calling it a job well done.”  
  
“Impressive job, ladies.” Harry grinned. “You’ll do just fine at Hogwarts.”  
  
“Better than you, at least.” Anne tossed her red hair over one shoulder. For all the she resembled their mother, the smug expression on her face was all hers.  
  
“What did I ever do to you?” Harry groaned. “Charu, help me out. You’ve got something I can use against her, right?”  
  
“Help you?” Sarah rolled her eyes. “No way.”  
  
“Harsh.” Harry pulled a face. “You think we should help look for Madhav? Amma and Appa have been looking about two hours now, I think.”  
  
“I don’t know why they bother searching the whole house every time. He only hides in one of four places. The hallway closet, under the bed in your room, out back in the broom shed, and in the pantry.” Sarah shrugged. “The last is only when he’s hungry, though, and he won’t be right now, so that narrows it down to three.”  
  
“I’m pretty sure Amma and Appa would have appreciated that information.” Harry shrugged. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “Just maybe.”  
  
“Yeah.” Sarah nodded, looking down the hallway to see if either of their parents had heard them. The hallway remained stubbornly empty. “Maybe.”  
  
“You’d think they’d have caught on by now.” Anne said. “I mean they’ve only known Madhav for nine years now.”  
  
Drew ambled in as his sister spoke, one of James’ old Quidditch jerseys hanging off his frame. “Why are Amma and Appa looking for Madhav?” He asked, frowning deeply. “He’s in the hallway closet playing with the chess pieces again.”  
  
“One of us needs to find them, because I can guarantee you they’re lost, and someone else can get Madhav out of the closet.” Sarah looked around. “Any takers for either job?”  
  
“I’ll get Madhav.” Anne sighed, already trailing out of the kitchen. “Vella vaa daa, naaye!” (Get out here, asshole!)  
  
“I came for carrots.” Drew admitted, making a beeline for the refrigerator.  
  
“Drew’s going to have the best eyesight out of all of us.” Harry took off his glasses, wiping them on the hem of his shirt. They’d gotten all grimy again, and he’d washed them off just hours ago. “Just watch.”  
  
“You would watch if you could see, Hari.” Sarah said dryly, patting her older brother on the back.  
  
Drew let out a loud peal of laughter as he trailed towards the counter, grabbing a handful of the carrots Lily had been cutting earlier. “Burn!”  
  
“I can see now.” Harry grumbled, sliding his glasses back on. The world, thankfully, looked a lot less blurry now. “Quit it.”  
  
“I’ll get Amma and Appa, then.” Sarah said, running to the stairs and then up them. “Appa! Amma!” She yelled. “We found him!”  
  
Anne marches back into the kitchen triumphantly, one hand wrapped around Matt’s wrist tightly so that she could drag him along. Matt was clutching a few chess pieces against his chest, looking quite dismayed.  
  
“Hari Anna, she interrupted the wedding.” He said seriously, the corners of his mouth pulled down into a frown.  
  
“What wedding?” Harry asked, just as Sarah reappeared, dragging their father by the hand.  
  
“Charu, kaiyya vidu.” James said, looking quite annoyed, but allowed his daughter to lead him to her siblings anyway. “What’s this talk about a wedding?” (Charu, let go of my hand.)  
  
Lily followed her husband, eyes absently noting Matt’s presence in her kitchen.  
  
“Madhav was marrying chess pieces in the closet, looks like.” Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. Ask him.”  
  
“Uncle Remus told me Uncle Sirius used to live in a closet.” Drew said, around his mouthful of carrots, as James stifled a laugh. “Sounds rough.”  
  
“The white rook was marrying the black queen!” Matt said. “There was a big ceremony with all the other pieces from the kingdoms and they were gonna get married, but then Anne came and knocked a bunch of them over and now the peace treaty isn’t complete and they’re gonna have to go to war again!” He sucked in a deep breath after his rambling explanation.  
  
“New family rule.” James said, looking at Matt. “No thinking about marriage ever again until you’re at least eighteen. And even then, we’ll ground you.”  
  
“How come?” Drew asked, moving to take some of the chess pieces from Matt so he wouldn’t drop them. “You’re married, and Charu said you were real young when you did that.”  
  
“When did you get married?” Anne asked excitedly, grabbing onto her mother’s waist. “Was it romantic? Did you wear a dress?”  
  
“Oh boy.” Lily stared helplessly at James.  
  
“Well, kids, we were hoping we’d never have to tell this story, but sure. Why not.” James said, trying to look enthusiastic. “Ready for the most romantic story ever, Anju?”  
  
“Yes!” She gasped.  
  
“I broke my hand, so your mother married me.” James shrugged. “Of course, it helped that we liked each other and whatnot, but that’s about it.”  
  
“That sounds like a bit of an overreaction.” Sarah piped up. “She should’ve left you to figure it out yourself.”  
  
“She should’ve.” James nodded. “But then none of you would be around, so no complaining allowed on that front.”  
  
“That wasn’t romantic at all! You’re lying!” Anne frowned. “Amma, make him tell the real story.”  
  
“Actually…” Lily laughed sheepishly. “He’s right. That’s almost exactly what happened. I couldn’t visit him in the hospital because I wasn’t a family member, so we got married in case it happened again.”  
  
“Just left out a couple of the details.” James shrugged. “Like filling out the paperwork and Satan ruining board game night.”  
  
Anne gaped up at her parents in horror. “You didn’t have a wedding or anything?”  
  
“Not really. There wasn’t much time.” Lily shrugged. “And, by the time we did have time, I was already pregnant. Which meant no time.”  
  
“Thanks for showing up early to the party. Much appreciated.” James ruffled Harry’s hair.  
  
“Don’t mention it. I love ruining your fun.” Harry grinned. “Makes my life a little happier.”  
  
“And then, a couple years later, Charu was born, and then the rest of you happened. Skip forward to present day, and here we all are. The end.” James clapped his hands. “Great story.”  
  
“That was a terrible story.” Anne crossed her arms.  
  
“Sounds practical. I mean, weddings are expensive and boring, so you did the right thing.” Sarah shrugged. “Plus, Appa gets hurt all the time, so it makes a lot of sense that you married him then just to get it over with.”  
  
“She wasn’t trying to get it over with.” James grumbled. “She married me because she likes me.”  
  
“Most of the time.” Lily agreed, reaching up to pat his shoulder. “You can be pretty charming when you need to be.”  
  
“Charming.” Matt repeated, moving to sit at the table.  
  
“You are right, though. I did tell the story pretty badly.” James shrugged, looking to Lily. “You take a turn at it. Maybe she’ll like your take on it better.”  
  
“Uncle Remus said that Amma used to say she’d date the Giant Squid before she’d date you. So, Amma, is the Squid good on dates?” Harry asked, smiling wide.  
  
“I never dated the squid. Your uncle is a filthy liar and I’m going to hex him into next month if he doesn’t stop telling everyone that.” Lily grumbled.  
  
“Amma,” Anne whined, “how come you didn’t have a big romantic wedding? It would have been so much fun!”  
  
“Like I said, honey, there just wasn’t any time.” Lily ruffled her youngest daughter’s hair. “Your father and I are pretty private people, anyways. The big wedding just wasn’t our style. If we had one, we’d have had to invite your aunt and uncle, and it would have been a disaster.”  
  
“Add Sirius and Remus to Petunia and Vernon and you’ve got a guaranteed disaster.” James shuddered. “So we just filed the paperwork and then had your grandparents, Sirius and Remus over for dinner to break the news to them.”  
  
Anne’s lower lip jutted out in a pout and she stared up at her parents with annoyance in her brown eyes. “Well, what about your anniversary? When do you get to celebrate that?” She asked.  
  
“It’s, uh…” Lily sounded mildly panicked, looking to James for help. James, lost in thought himself, completely missed her cue. “A day. A day of the year. And it definitely happens once a year, every year.” She finally said.  
  
“January twentieth.” James said decisively, looking quite confident.  
  
“Hold on, it’s not in January.” Harry frowned, working out the numbers in his head before speaking again. “You said you were married nearly a year when I was born. And if you were married in January, that would’ve only been half a year.”  
  
“You’re right.” James nodded. “September eighteenth. A month from today, actually. Huh. Convenient.”  
  
“Would explain why it’s always circled on the calendar.” Sarah nodded thoughtfully. “I was wondering about that.”  
  
“Is that what that’s for?” Lily mumbled.  
  
“You’re terrible, Amma.” Anne lamented, collapsing into a chair beside Matt. “Absolutely terrible.”  
  
“She’s not that bad.” James said, shrugging. “I mean, we’ve been married, what, fifteen years this September? Wouldn’t have stuck with her this long if she was terrible.”  
  
“Fifteen is a lot of years. Hari Anna isn’t even fifteen yet.” Drew hummed.  
  
“That’s a lot of suffering, Amma.” Harry shook his head, looking apologetic. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”  
  
“Why does everyone think I’m terrible?” James frowned in confusion, running a hand through his hair. “Was there a memo that I missed or something?”  
  
“Your life is the memo, dear.” Lily grinned up at him, and James rolled his eyes, threading his fingers through the gaps between hers. “Even the kids can see it.”  
  
“I can’t believe this.” James grumbled, obviously putting on a show. Harry knew he likely wasn’t mad one bit, because if he was really mad, he wouldn’t be holding Amma’s hand at all. Teasing each other was just how his parents communicated, or at least that’s what Harry had come to assume, over the years. “Everyone’s always attacking me, and you won’t even tell me why.”  
  
“It’s okay, Appa.” Sarah patted her father’s arm. “You’ll be rid of us soon.”  
  
“No, I won’t be.” James sighed, putting his arm around his older daughter. Sarah leaned into him just slightly, and he patted her head. “I’ll just see you for a couple less hours every day. Your amma’s the one who wins on that front.”  
  
“Oh, please, you wouldn’t know what to do without us around.” Harry rolled his eyes. “You’ve had at least one of us around for what, fourteen of the fifteen years you’ve been married? You’d have to actually talk to each other and stuff.”  
  
“We managed just fine when we were dating, so don’t worry too much about us.” James shrugged, looking to Lily for confirmation. Lily nodded, and James seemed to straighten up further, looking much more confident. “It’ll take some getting used to, of course, but we’ll be okay. And plus, you’ll be back between terms and stuff, so it’s not like you’re going away forever.”  
  
“Plus it’ll just be Adi, Madhav and me for a whole year!” Anne said brightly. “So I can ask all sorts of questions like how you met and what your first date was and stuff!”  
  
“Oh lord.” Lily sighed. “I should have known this day would come.”  
  
“Thursday?” Matt asked with a frown. “It comes every week, Amma.”  
  
“We met on the train to Hogwarts. That’s question one done. First date was supposed to be to Hosgmeade, but I got horribly ill, thanks to a prank gone wrong, and we ended up not going. So I guess we just started at second date, in that case. Your Uncle Sirius says your mother searched the whole school for me so she could get mad at me for missing our date, and it never even occurred to her that I might just be in my dormitory.” James looked to Anne. “All done? Or have you got more questions.”  
  
“So you and Amma have just always been bad at finding things, then?” Sarah asked, nodding pensively. “Makes sense.”  
  
“What was the prank?” Harry asked, genuinely curious.  
  
“Sirius was trying to turn Snape red and gold again, except a little more permanently this time.” James chuckled. “So he decided to test it on one of his friends, being the wonderful little soul he is. It didn’t work. I just ended up violently sick for a weekend. Sometimes I wonder if it was on purpose.”  
  
“To his credit, your vomit was red and gold.” Lily said, her nose scrunching up at the memory. “And your snot. That was a gross weekend, really.”  
  
“I wanna do that!” Drew shouted excitedly.  
  
“Don’t.” James shook his head. “Your mother is the only person I know who could actually pull that off, and I don’t know if she would. Don’t even try.”  
  
“I’d try, but I’m terrible at Potions.” Sarah said, sounding quite put off by the idea of being bad at something.  
  
“You’ll survive not being the best at everything, kannamma.” James squeezed Sarah’s shoulder. Sarah, who had looked quite tense before, relaxed slightly. “Besides, you’ve still got a year before you’ve got to worry about all of that anyway.”  
  
“And it’s not like Snape’ll give you a fair grade anyway.” Harry shrugged. “Just don’t explode anything on him or you’ll get detention.”  
  
“I don’t think Sarah can make a potion without something exploding.” Anne rolled her eyes. “It’s like her specialty or something.”  
  
“Like your friend Seamus.” Matt hummed. He was arranging what chess pieces he had brought with him on the table, obviously attempting to reassemble the wedding.  
  
“Seamus is a lot of fun.” Harry nodded. “Good lad. Always ready for a good laugh.”  
  
“I’ll take exploding things as a specialty any day over constantly needling other people to get a reaction.” Sarah shrugged casually. Although she looked almost exactly like her father, her mannerisms were all her mother’s. “It’s much more productive anyway.”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Anne demanded, hands slamming down on the table and knocking over several of Matt’s pawns.  
  
“If either of you says another word, you’re going to your rooms.” Lily said, pointing at each of her daughters in turn. Neither of them said a word, or even looked the tiniest bit apologetic.  
  
“Will that fix the board?” Harry asked, a little too eagerly.  
  
“They didn’t come to blows.” Drew sighed, now gnawing on a second carrot. “No dice.”  
  
“We could.” Sarah said. “But I’d rather go to the Cup. Quidditch before fights.”  
  
“Truly my daughter.” James grinned, nearly vibrating with excitement at the mention of Quidditch. None of the Potters particularly liked Ireland or Bulgaria, but they were quite pleased that the team that had knocked India out of the running had made it to the finals. It made the early loss a little easier to handle. “We’ll have three Potters on the field at Hogwarts in a couple of years, Lily. At least two times the games. Excited?”  
  
“I’m still trying to prepare myself for all the future injuries.” Lily admitted with a wince. “Poor Madame Pomfrey.”  
  
“I’ll be careful.” Sarah said, frowning. “Not sure about those two, but you can count on me.”  
  
“I know.” James patted her back. “We do.”  
  
“Good.” Sarah said decisively, nodding.  
  
“I’m ready for Adi to be on the team.” Harry said, grinning. He and Drew had always been close, and being on a Quidditch team together would make it even better. They’d never gotten the opportunity before, the Little League program they’d played in having always separated groups by age, but Harry was sure it would be the start of a new age of success for Gryffindor. “Of course, that’ll mean Fred and George would be gone, which would suck, but you better get to actual playing level before I graduate. We’ll destroy Slytherin. It’ll be awesome.”  
  
“Aren’t Fred and George graduating at the end of next year anyway?” Sarah asked. “You’ve got an entire year with reserve Beaters, and that’s if Drew makes the team his second year.”  
  
“I totally will! You can count on me!” Drew said, throwing a fist into the air. “I’ve been practicing like crazy!”  
  
“You’re going to be a hell of a Beater.” Harry nodded, smiling softly. “Best in England, maybe. You’ll go pro someday and crush everyone.”  
  
“That’s not as fun as you think it is.” James shook his head. Drew and Harry both leaned in excitedly, eager to hear more about their father’s Quidditch playing days. He rarely spoke of them at length, and although they'd frequently gone to his games , hearing stories straight from him was always a million times cooler than having to search it out somewhere else. “Tiring, mostly, but that’s probably because we had all of you for the majority of the time I was playing with Puddlemere. Not naming any names, of course, but the babies were actually not the worst of the trouble.”  
  
“But I don’t have any kids. I don’t even have a girlfriend.” Drew said with a shrug. “So I can spend all my time on Quidditch.”  
  
“Good. Don’t have any kids for as long as you can. God bless.” James said, putting his hands up. “Please, feel free.”  
  
“Who needs kids anyway?” Harry shrugged. “They sound like a pain, seeing as most kids aren’t as great and entertaining as we are.”  
  
“I know, we could’ve gotten kids who didn’t fight constantly and behaved themselves, but we got you instead. What a miracle. Bhagavan loves us all.” James rolled his eyes.  
  
“Hey. Fifty-five days, Appa.” Harry said, pointing to the blackboard. “We have proof.”  
  
“Very true.” James nodded. “I’m proud of all of you. Keep up the good work. No funny business.”  
  
“What qualifies as funny business?” Sarah spoke up. “Asking for a friend.”  
  
“You’re my favorite.” Lily snorted, ruffling Sarah’s hair.  
  
“I thought you weren’t allowed to have favorites.” Drew said, frowning deeply. “Isn’t that a rule?”  
  
“Adi, we were lying.” James said seriously. “I’ve got a favorite too. And Uncle Remus has a favorite, and Uncle Sirius has a favorite. Uncle Frank and Aunt Alice have favorites too, except their favorite is just Neville, since they’ve only got one kid to deal with.”  
  
“Neville’s my favorite too.” Harry said, nodding confidently. He and Neville had been writing back and forth nearly daily this summer, something his mother was constantly calling cute despite all assurances that it was anything but that. “Uncle Frank’s got the right idea.”  
  
“Who’s your favorite, Appa? Is it me?” Drew piped up, after a few moments of silence.  
  
“Nope.” James said seriously, shaking his head. “My favorite is me. It’s the only reason I’ve survived all these years.” He chuckled as Drew’s face fell slightly, and shook his head. “Nah, I like all of you just fine. Don’t worry about it.”  
  
“Alright, everyone out unless they’re helping with dinner.” Lily said, hands on her hips. “Gotta eat so I can change that fifty-five to a fifty-six.”  
  
“I guess we’ve just got to let it happen.” Harry sighed. “I guess there’s no stopping this good behavior thing.”  
  
“For our sakes,” James said, smiling brightly, “I hope not.”


	2. The Quidditch World Cup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I looked over the statistics yesterday, but I don’t want to make any pronouncements about the game. I’d rather watch it play out.” Hermione said, nodding seriously.
> 
> “So you’re not going to pick because you don’t care?” Harry asked, crossing his arms.
> 
> “You could say it like that.” Hermione shrugged.
> 
> “We’re gonna say it like that.” Ron rolled his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the break last week-- we both had a lot going on, and we ultimately decided that it was better to wait a week and give you all the best chapter we could instead of not putting our best work forward. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed [the jilytober fic we wrote](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4951672), as well as the Rewrite AMA-- if you want to see the questions we answered, check the rewrite potter tags on [my blog](http://halloweeping.tumblr.com/tagged/rewrite-potter) and [Lai's](http://yamibakuraofficial.tumblr.com/tagged/rewrite-potter)! 
> 
> If you're on tumblr, track the rewrite potter tag for updates on when the chapter's going up, and answers to any asks we get!
> 
> Hope you guys had a great week and that this'll make it better! :)
> 
> -S

“If you want to be close to nature, just stand outside for five minutes.” James Potter grumbled, as he led his family to where the Portkey had been placed. “Look at the sunshine, look at the trees, look at the clouds, done. No need for all this camping rubbish.”

“Appa, the most important part is that we’re doing it as a family.” Harry piped up, nudging his father in the ribs with his elbow. This only served to make James more annoyed, and Harry quickly rushed to his mother’s side, hoping that he could hide behind her in the unlikely event that his father picked a fight. He was probably just nervous about the crowd, Harry reasoned, and that was something anyone would be nervous about.

“It’s a bonding experience.” Harry said, despite knowing that keeping his mouth shut was a much safer option this early in the morning. “We’re all going to grow in our understanding of each other or something.”

“It’s just sports.” Sarah grumbled. Although she was an early riser like her father, she saw no need to walk this far immediately after getting up. “We’re not finding ourselves or whatever.”

“I’m banning your mother from controlling the wireless forever.” James grumbled. “White people music, putting ideas in the heads of my children.”

Lily reached out to whack her husband’s back, though the only noise that escaped her was an unintelligible groan. She had never been a morning person, often preferring to sleep in until noon, given the chance. The sun had barely risen when James had shaken her awake that morning.

Matt hurried along after his parents, practically drowning in the oversized sweater he’d stolen from Harry’s room that morning. Luckily, Drew was holding his hand in order to keep him from falling behind, as he tended to when the family was in a rush. Anne marched ahead, her bright red ponytail bouncing in the sunlight.

“Uncle Sirius changes the wireless when he’s at home.” She reminded her father.

“He’s next.” James said, frowning. “I can still take him.”

“You have won the last few Stag Versus Dog nights.” Harry nodded. “I’d say you’ve got a solid chance, if you catch him off guard.”

“Before eleven in the morning and go for the knees.” Sarah piped up. “You’ll knock him over easily. There’s math to it, but it’s too early for that.”

“Agreed.” Harry groaned, although, in his opinion, never was the best time for doing math.

James ran ahead at the last second, bending over to pick up a half-crushed tin can. Judging by the label, it might once have contained soup, but had thankfully been washed out before being repurposed. “Here’s the Portkey.” He said, before checking his watch. “Should be about five minutes more before we leave, so that’s enough time to put down some ground rules.”

“Rules?” Harry muttered, scratching the back of his head. “What are those?”

“The things that are keeping the nonsense board from being reset.” Anne grumbled.

“The things that mean we’re allowed to go to the World Cup!” Drew said excitedly.

“Neither of those was actually a definition.” Sarah said, looking thoughtful. “Rules establish order and standards for good behavior. Neither of which you know about, Harry, lacking respect for both order and good behavior.”

“Rules are things Amma and Appa say that we have to follow or we get in trouble.” Matt said seriously.

“Lily, anything you’ve got?” James looked to Lily, who was rubbing at her eyes. “Or should I take point on this one?”

“What are we talking about?” She mumbled.

“Rules.” Drew said.

“Too early for that.” Lily grumbled.

“Okay.” James said, nodding. “Okay. Alright, all of you need to stay by at least one of us parents at all times. Preferably both, if you can. If you go anywhere, you need to tell us who you’re with, for how long, and what adults will be with you so we can contact them. If there are no adults, you’re not going. I don’t care if it’s your friends, I don’t care if it makes you look uncool, you aren’t going if there is no supervision. Anyone who tries to sneak out is getting extra schoolwork all year. I will write it myself.”

“But you aren’t a muggle teacher, Appa.” Matt said. “So you’d only be able to write homework for Harry.”

“You say that as if I know nothing about Muggle school.” James said, frowning. “I went, same as you’re going. Might not remember everything, since it was a while ago, but I can make a solid effort and that’s what matters. Alright, everyone’s hands on the can. Let’s go, let’s go.”

“All at the same time,” Lily reminded them, “or some of us might get left behind.”

The kids all crowded around the battered can, hands outstretched and hanging in the air as they waited for the signal.

“One. Two. Three.” James counted off, and on three, Lily and all the Potter children grabbed whatever piece of the can they could. And it was good that they did, for not a second later, they found themselves whirling through the air over a grassy hill. They were going too fast, Harry thought, bracing himself for impact. They were going too fast and--

“Let go!” James bellowed, letting go of the can early enough to land comfortably on his feet. Lily quickly followed suit. Drew stumbled upon landing, promptly faceplanting into the grass as Anne and Matt crashed into him. Harry and Sarah, who hadn’t let go of the can in time, landed heavily on the ground in a tangle of limbs. “See, I told you two to let go.”

“Could’ve given us more warning.” Harry mumbled, helping Sarah back onto her feet. Sarah looked quite sick, so Harry stuck close by her side just in case. Not because he was worrying about her or anything, just so she wouldn’t fall over, or get lost, or-- fine, maybe he was worried about her. “Now I’m going to be sore all day.”

“Not as sore as your feelings will be when Bulgaria loses!” Crowed a new voice. Fred or George-- it was impossible to tell which of them had spoken-- grinned down at the Potter children.

“Harry!” Ron pushed through the twins, ignoring their loud protests as he crushed his best friend in a hug. He had grown even taller over the summer, easily dwarfing Harry in height. He could only imagine how Hermione had reacted to this. “How was your summer, mate?”

“Sarah!” Ginny reached out to gently punch Sarah in the shoulder. Sarah shoved Ginny lightly, a smile on her face. “I was beginning to think you’d never show up!”

“Ginny!” Sarah said, looking much less sick now that she had a distraction. “Excited to watch Lynch get destroyed?”

“You say that like Ireland would actually lose!” Ginny said, looking quite offended.

“Say what you like, but the fact remains that Lynch is terribly subpar compared to Krum.” Sarah shrugged. “Harry’s dives are a million times better than his, and he’s only been playing, what, seven years? Lynch has at least ten years experience on him, and he crashes every chance he gets.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize you thought I was good.” Harry said, with a grin, ruffling his sister’s hair.

“Don’t touch me.” Sarah said sharply.

“Right.” Harry nodded, pulling his hand back. “Cool.”

“Kannamma, annaatta nalla nada.” James said, a warning edge to his voice, and Sarah sighed, turning toward Harry. (Sweetheart, be nice to your brother.)

“You’re a good Seeker. I’m sorry.” Sarah looked to her father, raising an eyebrow as she crossed her arms. “Seriya nadandhenaa?” She asked, sarcasm practically dripping from her words. (Was I nice enough?)

“Idhukku thaan kapaathinelaa?” James grumbled, shaking his head as he looked mournfully at the sky. Sarah burst into laughter, trying to hide her smile by putting a hand over her mouth. (Is this what you saved me for, God?)

“Appa, can I go with Ron?” Harry begged, as Mr. Weasley finally came into view at the bottom of the hill. Harry nearly jumped up and down in excitement as he noticed Hermione beside his friend’s father, deeply engaged in a discussion. “And Hermione! Appa, please? Mr. Weasley’ll be there.”

“Hey, please, Mr. Potter?” Ron grinned up at James. “We won’t get into any trouble! Promise!”

“Send him back before the match, then.” James said, much to Harry’s surprise. “Make sure both your parents know he’s with you.”

“Thanks, Appa!” Harry grinned, running toward Hermione to hug her as tightly as he could. “Hermione!”

“Harry!” Hermione said, obviously taken aback by her friend’s sudden appearance. “It’s great to see you!”

“You as well.” Harry grinned, letting go of Hermione. “My dad says we’ve only got until the match starts to catch up, so you should probably start telling me about the books you’ve read now so I catch everything.”

“I don’t read that many books.” Hermione said, feigning annoyance. Or at least Harry thought. It was hard to tell the difference between when Hermione was and wasn’t joking. As far as he knew, Ron was the only person who could reliably tell the difference. “At least not so many that it’d take an hour to list them all.”

“You read a ton of books.” Ron rolled his eyes. “Real boring ones, too. Stop pretending you aren’t an overachieving bookworm, Hermione.” The smile on his face made it clear that there was no bite to his words. He was obviously too excited about the impending quidditch game to let anything sour the mood.

“They wouldn’t be boring if you put in some effort to understand them, Ronald.” Hermione rolled her eyes, jabbing at his ribs with her elbow. Hermione seemed surprisingly calm, given the fact that Ron had just made jokes about her books-- she would have usually taken him to task over this. Perhaps, Harry thought, she was finally learning to appreciate how good Quidditch could be if there were no pre-game fighting.

“What did you do over the holidays, Ron?” Harry asked eagerly. He and Ron had written back and forth all summer, but letters could only say so much. “Are the chickens alright? You’d mentioned Fred and George slipped them a little something.”

“They’re bright purple!” Ron groaned. “And they lay Easter eggs! Mum can’t figure out how to change them back.”

“Sounds horrid. Have you thrown them at the gnomes yet?” Harry grinned, until Hermione shoved him lightly. “Oh, so Ron’s the only one getting special treatment. I see how it is.”

“It’s cause I’m cooler than you.” Ron snickered. “And no, we need the eggs to eat.”

“You can eat Easter eggs?” Harry frowned in confusion. “Well, that makes sense. They are the same as regular eggs, and you eat those. Aren’t they?”

“I know you don’t celebrate Easter and all, but they’re really just eggs. But painted with funny colors.” Ron shrugged.

“It sounds like a waste of time, really.” Harry shrugged. “I mean, you’re painting eggs and they don’t even do anything special.”

“They just look nice. It’s fun when you’re little.” Ron said. “Ginny used to make Holyhead Harpies eggs.”

“She would.” Harry rolled his eyes. Ever since he could remember, Ginny had rooted for the Harpies, partly due to the fact that they constantly decimated the Cannons. It only made sense that, when given an egg to decorate, she’d make that Harpies themed too. “Ginny’s too into the Harpies.”

“I bet one day she’ll even play for them.” He snorted. “She’ll be kickass. Maybe even take them to the League Cup.”

“If anyone could do it, it’d be Ginny.” Harry shrugged. “Any bets for the game today, Hermione?”

“I looked over the statistics yesterday, but I don’t want to make any pronouncements about the game. I’d rather watch it play out.” Hermione said, nodding seriously.

“So you’re not going to pick because you don’t care?” Harry asked, crossing his arms.

“You could say it like that.” Hermione shrugged.

“We’re gonna say it like that.” Ron rolled his eyes. “Hey Harry, wanna see our tent? Dad borrowed it from one of his friends at the ministry. The whole family fits inside! Hermione too!”

“Sounds fun.” Harry said. “Appa said that we were all going to suffer, if we really wanted to go out that badly. Brought a Muggle tent.”

“It’s a reasonable decision.” Hermione said, as they began the walk to the Weasleys’ allotted spot. “You’ll have to leave tomorrow morning, so putting up anything more complicated than a regular tent would be tough. Do Wizarding tents work the same way as Muggle ones?”

“The last time my family went camping, I wasn’t even born yet, and it was just my dad and his friends.” Harry shrugged. “That should give you an estimate of how long that tent’s just been sitting there in the attic.”

“I dunno what a muggle tent is like.” Ron shrugged. “Harry’ll show me later, I’m sure.”

“We all have no point of reference for each other.” Hermione said, looking quite surprised. “This hasn’t happened in awhile.”

“My family’s not all that good at keeping caught up with wizard stuff, you know that.” Harry shrugged. Both his parents preferred doing things the Muggle way, when the option was available, so he and his siblings had grown up that way as well. It had been odd, at first, to go over to the Weasleys and see everything being done by magic. “So it makes sense that it’d happen eventually. So, Ronniekins, show us a wizard tent and we’ll do our comparing.”

“It isn’t anything special.” He warned, standing in front of the flap to a completely ordinary-looking tent. The obvious excitement in his eyes seemed to contradict his words. “Behold!”

He swept inside, obviously expecting Hermione and Harry to follow. The inside of the tent was… bigger. Far bigger than it should have been, given the size of the outside. The floor was covered by several ornate rugs. There was a wood-burning stove a few yards away, surrounded by several stuffed chairs and a sofa that was being occupied by Fred and George. There was another flap off to the left, most likely leading to a kitchen, if the smells were anything to go by. Several beds were artfully hidden behind colorful curtains, and the Weasleys had taken the liberty of decorating every available surface in Irish colors.

“Yeah, we just brought sleeping bags.” Harry said, to no one in particular.

“Are we sure this is a tent?” Hermione looked extremely confused. “It looks awfully like someone stuffed a whole house in here.”

“Welcome to the Wizarding World.” Harry said dryly. “Doing things that don’t need to be done since the dawn of time.”

“Never done anything the muggle way.” Ron said with a shrug. “Never had to.”

“Weird.” Harry said, pulling a face. “Show us around, anyway. What other stuff does the tent have?”

Ron moved to pull some of the curtains back, pointing to another room. A bunk bed took up a portion of the area, accompanied by two armchairs, a bedside table, and what appeared to be a bookshelf. “This is where you and Ginny are sleeping, Hermione. We’re actually short a bed, so dad’s making Fred and George share one. Otherwise they’d get the bunks.”

“It looks nice.” Hermione said, looking around the room. “Thanks for having me along, by the way.”

“Of course! I figured even if you don’t appreciate Quidditch nearly as much as you should, you’ll still have fun. Plus, we haven’t seen you all summer!” Ron clapped her on the shoulder before moving back into the main area. “That’s the kitchen over there, and there should be something of a broom cupboard if you need to store your jackets or anything.”

“We’ve missed you.” Harry nudged Hermione’s shoulder with his own. “It’s not the same without you, really.”

“Not the same without you either.” Hermione nudged Harry’s shoulder back. “Don’t write yourself off too soon.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Ron asked.

“Ronald, you’re our favorite white boy.” Harry declared solemnly. “That’s lightyears ahead of chopped liver.”

“I’ll take what I can get.” He decided.

“I mean, we’ve only stopped an evil mass murderer twice together. Not like that creates strong friendships or anything, yeah?” Harry snorted.

“I don’t think there are any other cases for comparison.” Hermione shrugged. “It’s just us. Setting the precedent.”

“Well, someone’s got to. Might as well be us.” Ron grinned. “Now who wants something to eat?”

Before they knew it, it was time for the game, and Mr. Weasley was leading the group down to the pitch. Harry spotted Dean and Seamus with Seamus’ family along the way, and waved to his friends eagerly. Dean and Seamus hardly seemed to notice, although perhaps they hadn’t seen Harry wave at all, as they were whispering excitedly about something, heads close together.

“Wow. I’m going to get Seamus back for that.” Harry muttered. “Can’t even say hello to a good friend. What a jerk.”

“What about Dean?” Ron asked, trotting slightly to catch up. “He didn’t notice you either.”

“Him too.” Harry said, frowning. Dean should’ve seen him, at least, even if Seamus hadn’t. “Let’s find them after the match.”

“Sure thing.” Ron agreed. “We’ll see them at Hogwarts if we can’t find them, anyways.”

“Are you always fighting with your roommates?” Hermione asked, frowning.

“You say that as if you aren’t.” Harry retorted. “Besides, we love Dean and Seamus. It’s just that they hardly notice anyone except each other, since last year. Seamus used to be the best, but now it’s all Dean, all the time.”

“Parvati’s the same way.” Hermione said offhandedly. “Someone mentions Lavender and suddenly she’s ready to fight. It’s quite disconcerting.”

“She’s always been like that.” Harry shrugged. “Even mention something she likes and she’ll go after you with a knife.”

“You say that like she has.” Hermione looked to Harry in confusion.

“Deepavali ‘89.” Harry said, shaking his head. “Nearly got stabbed while in the temple. Good thing Sarah got Padma first.”

“Don’t reckon we’ll ever get like that, do you?” Ron asked.

“Like what?” Harry asked.

“Weirdly territorial about people.” Ron clarified. “Seems weird.”

“Aren’t we already?” Harry frowned thoughtfully. “Last time the school hated me, you fought three whole people.”

Ron frowned, seeming to mull this over. “Huh. I guess I did.”

“We’ll be horrible by the time we’re out of school, if we’re this bad already.” Harry said, sounding oddly excited by the prospect. They’d entered the stadium, reaching a set of stairs, and Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys climbed up to the Top Box, chattering excitedly about the game to come all the way.

“I’ve got to go sit with my parents, I think.” Harry said, once they’d reached the top. Matt was waving frantically at his brother, his too-long sleeve flopping about above his head. “Kids are calling and all.”

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.” Came a disappointingly familiar voice. Draco Malfoy stepped past the trio, staring down his pointed nose at them. His father followed behind him, eyes bored as they swept over his son’s classmates.

“I don’t suppose you’re lost?” Lucius Malfoy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re right where we’re supposed to be, Mr. Malfoy.” Harry said calmly. “Are you?”

“Not quite. We’ve been invited to spend the game in the Minister’s private box.” Draco smirked.

“Draco, don’t waste your breath on unimportant matters.” Lucius scolded him.

“If even this is unimportant, then he’s sure wasting a lot of breath when he’s at school.” Harry said, smiling cheerfully. “On that note, see you there, Draco. I’ll be joining my family.”

Harry ran up a few more rows of seats to his parents, settling into the seat Sarah had saved for him. “Amma, I just wrecked Lucius Malfoy. It was beautiful.”

“You get extra dessert when we get home.” Lily told him seriously. “And if anyone important asks, I don’t approve.”

“Yes!” Harry said, grinning wide. “This is a great day.”

“I’d tell you not to keep doing that, but we all know I’d be lying.” James said, from a couple seats away. “Well done.”

“My turn next!” Anne shouted.

“Can’t do that, Anju. You’ve got to be eleven first.” Harry said. “Amma won’t teach you the secrets you need to win before then.”

“I don’t need Amma’s secrets. I will destroy him.” Anne said, her brown eyes entirely serious. “He’ll be sneezing glitter glue until the day he dies.”

“Back in the day, we needed four people to get Lucius coughing up glitter. Now, we only need one.” James said, ruffling Anne’s hair. “Oh, how the times change.”

“She’s a force of nature.” Drew said sagely. “That’s what Uncle Remus says.”

“You’re like a tiny little tornado inside a person.” Harry said, reaching over to ruffle Anne’s hair.

“That is exactly what Drew said.” James said, nodding.

“You expected Hari to be original?” Sarah said, raising an eyebrow. “That was your first mistake.”

“A tornado of glitter.” Anne corrected Harry.

“Fine. Glitter tornado.” Harry shrugged. “The game’s about to start. Maybe we’ll see some real destruction.”

“Give Anju a broom. Last time we did she destroyed Madhav’s bedroom window.” Drew said.

“It was one time!” Anne protested.

“It was okay.” Matt said. “Appa fixed it.”

“She still broke your window.” Harry said, pulling a face. “Alright, so that takes us down to three of five playing at Hogwarts.”

“I hope the other two are Charu and Adi.” Matt winced.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Madhu. No worries.” Harry grinned. “You’ll have both your feet on the ground for all seven years, if any of us have a say in it.”

“I can’t wait to destroy this winning streak you’ve got going.” Sarah said, looking quite excited. “Even if I end up in Gryffindor.”

“That’s a little far for revenge, Charu.” Harry winced. Sarah rarely made threats she didn’t mean. “I mean, you don’t have to do that much to take me down.”

“You’re misunderstanding.” Sarah said, eyes on the field. “I want to.”

“Hey, no fighting. The mascots are coming out.” James pointed to the field, where a group of leprechauns had walked out onto the field. From the other end of the field, a line of women were slowly approaching the leprechauns, and Harry, taking a cue from his father, averted his eyes. The Bulgarians had brought veelas. Seemed rather predictable, in Harry’s opinion, when there were far more interesting things in Bulgaria.

“When are we actually going to get to see the game?” Sarah asked, looking quite annoyed. Harry looked over at his sister to see her still watching the field, entirely uninterested. “This is boring.”

“About now, I’d say.” James said, looking up as the Veela left the field. “Ireland’ll be out in a few seconds. Final bets?”

“Bulgaria wins.” Harry and Sarah said in unison, then glared at each other afterward.

“Fred and George said that Ireland will win, but Krum will catch the snitch.” Matt said thoughtfully. “I don’t really know enough about Quidditch to give a good guess….”

“That’s a risky one.” Drew hummed. “Krum is probably the best player for Bulgaria, and Ireland’s got a pretty well-rounded team this year. But most teams would wait to catch the Snitch until they have enough points to win.”

“We can’t trust Drew’s opinion on team composition.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “He thinks the Cannons are a well rounded team.”

“They have character!” He protested.

“Yeah, they have character, but character means nothing when you don’t do anything.” Sarah shot a smile at her brother.

“Charu, no pissing on Adi’s parade.” James frowned at his daughter. “If he wants to like a crappy team, he’s free to do so.”

“Appa!” Drew shouted in dismay.

“So much time and effort has gone into this year’s World Cup.” Fudge’s voice suddenly boomed through the stadium “I am proud to announce this year’s Irish team!”

Just as Sarah was about to retort, Ireland’s players took the field, followed by Bulgaria’s team a few minutes later.

“Begin!” Fudge yelled, and the players shot off faster than Harry thought possible, the Quaffle nothing but a red blur in the sky.

Harry soon lost himself in the rhythm of the game, hands tightly gripping the armrests of his seat as he tried his best to keep track of the action. Professional Quidditch was a lot more fast paced than the games he usually played in, at Hogwarts, and he was too young to remember when Appa played for Puddlemere too clearly, so this was an entirely new experience.

Both sides scored on each other repeatedly, the scores growing larger and larger, until something unexpected happened-- Lynch, the Irish Seeker, pulled into a dive, obviously having spotted the Snitch. Krum was right on his tail, playing as admirably as he had all season. Harry had read somewhere that Krum was hardly four years his senior, but was already playing on the national team-- that took talent, and Krum was certainly living up to his reputation.

“Lynch won’t make it.” Sarah whispered, from next to Harry. “Angle’s too steep.”

Harry nodded in agreement-- if it was a feint, Lynch had miscalculated his dive by a terrifying margin, and if it wasn’t, well, Lynch would be getting the Snitch at the cost of his next season in the league. “He’s not going to get the Snitch either-- look, Krum’s changing direction.”

Within seconds of Harry saying that, Lynch crashed headfirst into the ground, medics running out onto the field to examine him. In the commotion, hardly anyone noticed Viktor Krum snatch the Snitch out of the air, waving it around wildly in the hope of attracting someone’s attention.

The scoreboards updated one final time, and Harry turned to Matt, awestruck. “Ireland won, but Krum caught the Snitch.”

Matt nodded, expression serious as though he understood the gravity of the situation. “So… Fred and George get money, right?”

“And you, little man, have won the ability to delegate your chores for the week.” James ruffled Matt’s hair. “Who’s it going to be? Remember, Amma and I are off limits, but everyone else is fair game.”

“I’ll do them myself.” He hummed. “But can we have usiliyal for dinner?”

“Might be a little late for dinner, thangame.” James patted Matt’s head. “Lunch tomorrow for sure.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” Harry sighed in relief. If anyone but Matt had won the bet, he would’ve been screwed.

“Who would you have picked?” Sarah asked.

“You.” Harry said, grinning. “Easy.”

“I’d complain, but I would’ve picked you too.” Sarah shrugged.

“I’d pick Hari Anna too.” Anne decided.

“Who wouldn’t?” Sarah rolled her eyes. “He’s an easy target.”

“Am not!” Harry protested. “You just like attacking me.”

“For the record, all I said was that you’re an easy target, and you’re nearly crying over it.” Sarah shrugged. “Just saying.”

“Stop making your brother cry, Charu.” Lily advised her daughter. “He’s sensitive.”

Before anyone could react, Ginny came running up. “Mrs. Potter! Can Sarah come back to our tent? Just until bedtime!”

“Appa, please?” Sarah asked. “You let Hari go earlier, it’s only fair.”

“Lily, what do you think?” James looked to Lily.

“I don’t see why not. She’ll be with the Weasleys.” Lily shrugged. “Be careful, honey.”

“Well, that’s one less kid to worry about.” James said, as Sarah hurried off behind Ginny. “Rest of you, stick close by. No running off, Anju. No yelling, Hari. Adi and Madhav, keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Yes, sir!” Drew saluted.

“Okay, Appa.” Matt agreed.

“That was one time.” Harry muttered, glaring at the seats in front of him.

“Where would I run?” Anne grumbled.

“Look around you. Open space.” James shrugged.

“Plus, after that glitter comment, it’s not wise to send you off alone.” Harry said, reminding James, who had likely forgotten, of the threat Anne had made earlier.

“Very true, Hari. Right. Come on. We spent a good half hour putting up that tent, and we’re all going to force ourselves to enjoy it.” James started down the stairs, the rest of his family right behind him. “Not a word out of any of you kids, if we run into the Malfoys.”

As though summoned by the very mention, a trio of blondes emerged from the box above them. Draco sneered down the stairs at Harry. “It’s nice watching a professional game, Potter. They certainly perform better than you lot of Gryffindors.”

“That’s no way to talk, for someone whose only claim to Quidditch talent is an expensive broom.” Harry said, rising to the challenge despite being told not to. “I’m sure if you attached some arms to it, it’d even catch the Snitch for you. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“As if.” He frowned. “I’m the best seeker Slytherin could get. I can catch the Snitch with my eyes closed.”

“Sure you can.” Harry said, nodding. He didn’t believe one second of it-- there wasn’t a single world in which Malfoy could beat him in Quidditch, let alone actual professionals. He mostly felt sorry for Malfoy for believing what his father had told him. “We’ll play again this year, and we’ll really find out who’s better.”

“Draco, there’s no need to cause such a ruckus.” Lucius eyed the Potters as though they were something he’d scraped out of the bottom of his cauldron. “We all know who’s superior, in the end.”

“You got something to say?” Lily suddenly snapped, her hands on her hips.

James, used to years of Lily picking fights, put himself between the Malfoys and his children. “Spit it out, Malfoy.” He said, frowning. “No need for beating around the bush.”

“I’m certain you’re mistaken.” Lucius didn’t bother to hide the disdain in his tone.

“And I’m certain you should move along before you fall off these stairs.” Lily frowned.

Lucius, who appeared more annoyed than scared, swept past the Potters and out of sight. Draco followed behind his father, glancing over his shoulder with a nasty scowl.

“A perfect end to a perfect evening.” Harry spoke up, as the Potters took to the stairs again, once the Malfoys were far enough ahead to not pose a threat anymore. “Amma, that was brilliant!”

“That’s why your father married me.” Lily said. “For my snappy comebacks.”

“That was part of it.” James nodded, smiling fondly at Lily.

It really had been a perfect evening, Harry thought, as they headed back to the tent. The team he’d bet on hadn’t won, and the Malfoys had been a bother, but it had otherwise been a fun evening out, and they hadn’t had one of those in awhile. It’d teach Appa to loosen up a little, hopefully, if the rest of the night went well. There wasn’t much that could go wrong either-- it was just going to bed, beyond this, and that was something they’d all been fine at for years.

They had hardly been in the tent fifteen minutes before all hope of a perfect evening was destroyed.

“James?” Lily looked up from where she was braiding Anne’s hair. “Do you hear screaming?”

“It isn’t me.” Drew said.

“Stay here.” James said, frowning deeply, as he went to the door of the tent, unzipping it to step outside. After a moment, he returned inside, hands shaking too hard to zip the door closed on the first try. After three such tries, all increasingly unsuccessful, he left it open.

“Everyone, get your stuff.” He said, obviously trying to remain calm. “Make sure all your things are in the backpack you brought, and I want you all behind me when we go outside. Good?” The tone he was using left no room to argue with, and Harry shoved the pack of cards he’d taken out into his backpack before slinging it over his shoulder and standing.

“Appa?” Harry asked carefully. “What’s outside?”

“Nothing.” James replied, a little too quickly for it to be true. “Just do what I say, alright?”

“What’s going on?” Matt asked, reaching to tug at James’ shirt. “We need to get Charu.”

“James?” Lily was already on her feet, wand in hand.

“Keep your wand out. We’ve got company.” From the way his mother reacted to the phrase, and the looks his parents traded afterward, Harry could tell it had meaning for them, even if he didn’t get what was going on.

“Adi, Anju, come on. Get your stuff.” Anne and Drew scrambled about to get their things as soon as Harry told them to, surprising him greatly. Maybe it was serious, if they were actually listening. Once his younger siblings were all ready to go, Harry looked to his parents before tightly grabbing onto Anne and Drew’s hands. “Gotta keep everyone together.”

James had drawn his wand in the time it took Anne and Drew to get their things together, and was holding Matt’s hand tightly in his.

“On three.” He said, unzipping the door all the way, wand gripped tightly in his left hand. “One. Two. Three.” James rushed out, tugging Matt along beside him, Lily close behind. Harry followed his parents out, keeping Adi and Anju’s hands gripped in his.

The crowd outside was full of screaming people, and Harry was barely able to keep an eye on his parents in the fray. He wasn’t sure what had scared his father so much, considering this seemed normal for a post World Cup crowd, until he turned a corner after them to see a line of people marching by in silver skull masks halfway hidden by the hoods of their long, black robes. Harry hadn’t ever seen one up close before this, that he could remember, but their name popped into his head without a second’s pause.

Death Eaters.

No wonder Appa had been terrified.

“We’re going for the Portkey point! Everyone keep close!” James yelled, above the noise of the crowd. “Stick together!”

For a split second, Harry thought he’d lost Drew, and he stopped running, eyes wide in panic as he scanned the crowd behind him. But it turned out that Drew had been beside him all along, and his hand had simply slipped out of Harry’s. He caught up to his parents and Matt, noticing one of the Weasley twins and Seamus clumped together beside them, and barely got his hand on the Portkey before it swept them all back to the hill they’d come from in the morning.

Matt had started to say something, before the Portkey had taken them back, but it’d gotten drowned out by the rush of wind. He looked properly terrified, and Harry, checking that Anne and Drew were indeed beside him, stepped forward to comfort his youngest brother.

“Madhu, what’s wrong?” Harry asked, squeezing his brother’s shoulder to offer some comfort. Matt had never dealt well with crowds or stress, and both of them in one place had probably been too much for him.

Matt, as everyone was quite accustomed to, started crying. What they weren’t accustomed to was the sudden screaming. “WE LEFT CHARU BEHIND!”

Lily went pale as she whirled around, lips mouthing around silent words. “She was with Ginny…”

“We-- what?” James looked around, frantically counting the children in front of him. One redhead that wasn’t his, his three boys, another kid that was definitely not his, and Anne. Sarah wasn’t with them at all. “Oh god. We left her behind.”

“I’m going back for her.” Lily said in a strangled voice.

“You’re not going back.” James shook his head, forcing the words out like saying each one hurt him. “Arthur’s got her. It’ll be okay. We’ve got to get these kids home first.” He turned to the Weasley twin, looking him over. “Which one are you, Fred or George? The truth, please.”

“Fred. I’m Fred.” Fred, as he certainly was, looked incredibly shaken, and rather lost without his twin. “I lost George and Ron in the crowd.”

“They’ll be alright, Fred. Right. Adi, Madhu, Anju, stay with Amma. I’ll take these three. We’ll get home and then go from there.” James said, grabbing Harry’s hand roughly before leading him away from his siblings and toward Fred and Seamus. “We’ll be going by Side Along, if that bothers anyone.”

“Professor?” Seamus spoke up, looking visibly terrified. “Will I be able to get back to me mam and dad?”

“Of course, Finnigan, don’t be silly.” James said, sounding like Harry remembered him from the Defense classroom. His hands weren’t shaking as much anymore, and Harry wasn’t sure how much of that was good acting and how much was the truth. “Grab my arm, all three of you.”

Harry grabbed his father’s wrist, shutting his eyes tight, before feeling as if he were getting sucked through an uncomfortably small tube. When he opened his eyes next, he was down the street from his house. Fred, who knew where the Potter house was, took on the task of leading Seamus to the door, and Harry waited by his father’s side for his mother and the triplets to appear.

Lily and the triplets arrived a moment later, Matt still sobbing hysterically as he clung to his mother’s hand. She gently herded them towards the door, but Anne ran straight towards her father. “We need to get Charu!” She demanded.

“We will.” James said sharply. “Get inside. Hari, you too.”

“Yeah, Anju, Appa and Amma will take care of it.” Harry grabbed Anne, pulling her toward the house. “They always take care of it. Come on, we’ve gotta get inside.”

“Expecto Patronum! The recipient is Arthur Weasley, and the message is ‘Do you have Sarah? We’ve got Fred.’” Harry heard, from behind him, and he didn’t have to look behind him to know a silvery shadow of Prongs was running down the street.

Lily unlocked the door, counting her kids as they went inside. James jogged up behind them, slipping in just before Lily closed the door.

“Any extra wards you’ve got that aren’t on the place already, put them up.” James muttered to Lily. “Don’t want to take any chances.”

“What’s happening?” Seamus asked, looking around. “Who were those people?”

“Death Eaters, Finnigan.” James said, slipping back into his teacher voice. “They’re looking for victims, and luckily, the six of us are safe for now. We are going to wait here until things die down, and then get you and Fred back to your parents as soon as possible. Now, I don’t know your parents, Finnigan. Muggleborn or half-blood?”

“Half-blood, sir. Me mam’s a witch.” Seamus spoke up. “Her name’s Eileen.”

“Good.” James summoned up another Patronus. “The recipient is Eileen Finnigan, and the message is ‘This is James Potter, Harry’s dad. We’ve got Seamus at ours. Send an owl to let me know where to bring him.’.” Prongs cantered off again, slipping through the door as if he was made of nothing solid at all, and even Fred seemed awestruck. “Now we wait for answers. Make yourselves comfortable. No big messes, no pranks, no making each other cry. If you’ve got any questions or concerns, Lily and I are right here. You’re all big kids, you’ll do fine.”

Fred took a seat on the couch after a moment, and Seamus wandered over to Harry.

“I’ve got cards.” Harry said, unzipping his backpack to pull out the pack of cards he’d shoved in it before leaving. “Who wants a game?”

“I’d be up for it.” Seamus said gratefully. “What’re we playing?”

“Dunno.” Harry shrugged. “Something fun. Anju, Adi? You in?”

Drew, who was still attempting to calm Matt down, shook his head. Anne looked ready to set the deck of cards on fire.

“Guess it’s just us, then.” Seamus mumbled.

Within a half hour of the already doomed card game starting, there was an barn owl tapping at the window. Seamus, judging by the way he enthusiastically jumped up, seemed to recognize it. “That’ll be my mum.” He said, looking to James and Lily. “She’s alright, then.”

“That’s one answer.” James said, opening the window just enough for the owl to come through, and then shut it again. He unfolded the letter, frowning as he read through it, before folding it back up and sticking it in his shirt pocket. “Right, Finnigan, we’ll be going then. Got to put you through Side Along again, since your mum’s said you don’t have a Floo connection. Lily, do you need me to stay?”

“I’ll be fine.” Lily said.

“Was a nice game, Harry.” Seamus said, shaking hands with Harry, before running up to James’ side.

“Right.” James said, bending down to plant a kiss on Lily’s temple. “I’ll be back soon. Promise.” James unlocked the door, letting Seamus step outside before following him out, closing it behind them. Once Seamus and his father were out the door, Harry scooted over to where Drew and Matt were sitting.

Things were odd, without Sarah here-- it’s not that Harry had never noticed how much his sister contributed to their conversations as a family, because Sarah was impossible to overlook in that regard. It was strange, though, like there was an empty spot where she should be, and it was getting more and more painfully obvious as time went on. Seamus had kept him distracted, but now, between Matt’s tears and Fred’s silence, Harry was left with nothing to do but dwell on it.

Thankfully, quite soon after James had left, a familiar weasel patronus swept in through the door, playing about in the air.

Fred, who had only grown more tense as time wore on, suddenly relaxed, a slight smile on his face. “That’s my dad.” He said in relief.

“James, Lily, we’ve got Sarah. Everyone’s fine, aside from some cuts and scrapes. She’s a little shaken up, though. Send Fred through the Floo and we’ll send Sarah once he gets here. Love from Molly, the kids and I, Arthur.” The Patronus said, in Arthur Weasley’s voice, before dissipating.

“Oh, thank god.” Lily’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“See?” Harry said, smiling softly at Matt. “She’s fine. Told you so.”

Matt, who could hardly breath through all the tears and snot on his face, nodded in response, but didn’t stop crying.

Fred got to his feet, quickly thanking Lily and ruffling Harry’s hair before heading for the floo. “I’ll tell Ron and Hermione you’re alright.” He said before the flames flared green. A few minutes after Fred disappeared into the flames, Sarah stumbled out of them, running straight to Lily.

Lily quickly gathered her up in her arms, holding her tight enough that it looked almost painful. “Are you okay? Are you alright?” She asked frantically.

“I’m okay.” Sarah mumbled. She looked even younger than she was, thanks to the fact that she was practically swimming in the too big sweater she’d stolen from Harry’s closet that morning, and she clung as tightly to Lily as possible. “Just a little scared, I guess.”

“We’re all a little scared.” Lily’s laugh cracked halfway through, and she fell silent in favor of smoothing her hand over Sarah’s hair. Sarah held on to Lily even tighter, looking very much as if she was trying to disappear into her.

“Where’s Appa?” Sarah asked, looking up after a second. “He’s okay, right?”

“He didn’t even miss you for a second.” Harry piped up, hoping that the joke would work. “None of us did, obviously.”

“It’s Anju’s turn to get lost next.” Sarah said, catching on just in time. “Madhav was the zoo, Hari’s had a few tries at it, and now I’ve gone and mucked up today.”

“We’ll never get to go out again.” Harry said mournfully. “Appa’s going to give us all the lecture about behaving ourselves again and it wasn’t even us this time.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that tonight.” Lily let out a breath and pulled away from Sarah so that Matt could hug his sister next.

Sarah hugged Matt as tightly as she could, wiping his tears away. Of all of her siblings, she’d always been closest to Matt, and seeing him upset always worried her. “Madhu, what’s all of this?”

“We lost you.” He sniffled, rubbing his face into her pilfered sweater.

“Well, I’m back now, and that’s what’s important.” She ruffled his hair, trying to coax a smile out of him. “You can get snot all over this, if you like. It’s Hari’s sweater, not mine.”

“You’re horrible.” Harry muttered. “No respect for your elders.”

“Hi, pot.” Sarah said, rolling her eyes as she hugged Matt a little tighter. “I’m kettle.”

There was a loud knock at the door, and Sarah looked up suddenly at the sound.

“Anju, can you let your father in?” Lily sighed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. “I think he misplaced his key again.

Anne hurried to pull open the door, letting James step back inside.

“Sorry.” He said, grinning sheepishly. “Had the key in my pocket the whole time, wouldn’t you know it.”

“There’s Appa back too.” Sarah said to Matt. “Everything’s back to normal.”

“We’ve got Charu back, then. Good.” James nodded, rubbing at his forehead. “Everybody’s safe. No arguments I missed?”

“Nope. Awful boring, if you ask me.” Harry said, with a shrug.

“Right. Dinner, then bed. No exceptions for anybody.” James motioned toward the kitchen. “If you need us during the night or are scared or something, feel free to come on in. Not all of you at once though.”

“Potter Pile.” Drew said seriously. “Madhav is crying and Charu was scared.”

“That’ll go on the agenda, then.” James nodded, putting an arm around Lily to pull her into his side. “Dinner, Potter Pile, then bed. Any changes proposed, Lily? Additions, removals?”

“I’m good.” She said, leaning heavily on her husband.

“Motion to adjourn?” James looked over each of his children in turn.

“Seconded!” Harry chorused, and the Potter family trooped off toward the kitchen, and the promise of a slightly more peaceful night.


	3. The Triwizard Tournament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not joking, Mr. Weasley.” said Dumbledore, with an amused chuckle. "For many years, the Triwizard Tournament was regarded as a brilliant way to have young witches and wizards of differing nationalities create ties with each other. A champion is selected to represent each school-- one each from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang-- and the three of them will compete in three different, challenging magical tasks. The one that wins the competition will bring eternal glory to their school, their name, and a prize of one thousand Galleons. Unfortunately, the death toll soon mounted too high for the tournament to continue.”
> 
> “A death toll?” Hermione exclaimed. “Does he hear himself talk?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, folks. We're hitting the main plot of the book and hitting it hard from this week on-- any guesses on how Harry's year is going to go? You'll have our answer soon, but we're both curious to know yours. 
> 
> On an important note, neither of us condone any of Ron's actions/dialogue within the train scene, nor do we endorse the real world implications that his statements have about his thoughts on institutional oppression and racism. Ron, at this point in time, is very much ignorant and spouting off what's familiar to him, which does not, in any way, excuse his behavior, but does explain it. 
> 
> Have a great week, and we'll see you again next Friday with another great chapter.
> 
> -S & L

“Here’s to another year of messing with Snape.” Harry said cheerfully, as the Potter family crossed through the barrier onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters. “I’m excited. I’ve already covered my summer Potions homework in suspicious stains and glitter.” Anne, who had assisted with the glitter, swelled with pride.

“Did you do the Defense homework?” James looked to Harry, who shrugged, grinning sheepishly.

“That’s what the train’s for?”

“Sarah will probably have all her homework for the whole year done before she even boards the train, next year.” Anne giggled.

“That’s impossible.” Sarah said, frowning. “I wouldn’t know what the homework was until I got there.”

“Maybe you can ask for it in advance?” Matt suggested.

“I’m pretty sure your father only plans for a week at a time.” Lily snorted.

“I do.” James said, looking quite proud of himself. Harry was quite thankful for his father, on that count-- he always taught the chapters of the book in order, so if he happened to fall asleep, he wouldn’t miss too much. “I do my best.”

“Maybe that’s my homework for next year.” Sarah said, shaking her head. “Making Appa plan ahead.”

“Your mum’s been trying to do that for almost twenty years. No luck.” James chuckled. “Pick something more achievable. Like new ways to beat up your brother.”

“I can do that all year next year.” Sarah said, nodding thoughtfully. “I’ll have to think that through, then.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Harry groaned. “As if I needed my life to be worse.”

“I’ll help.” Drew told Sarah with a laugh. “Then when we get there it’ll be even more fun.”

“Family bonding.” Anne agreed.

“I’d test the small scale solutions, of course, so we could implement the bigger plans when the three of you are there as well.” Sarah shot a smile at Harry, who winced. He’d been the target of Sarah’s plans before, and that was never fun. Mainly because, unlike Harry’s plans, hers actually worked. “I’d say enjoy Hogwarts while you can, but you’ll probably just go and get yourself killed again.”

“I didn’t almost die last year.” Harry pointed out, looking quite put off. “I was quite safe!”

“Do you want a medal?” Sarah rolled her eyes.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “A shiny one.”

“Harry Potter, decent human being. Doesn’t strike fear into the heart of his family on purpose for a whole school year.” Sarah said dryly. “We’ll have to bake a cake or something. Throw a party.”

“Last year was still pretty weird.” Drew frowned. “Plus, there was that one night when Hogwarts went on lockdown and we built a pillow fort with Uncle Sirius? I was pretty sure someone might have died.”

“None of that this year.” Matt told Harry seriously.

“Promise.” Harry stuck his hand out for Matt to shake. “No dying. One hundred and ten percent.”

“You can’t have a hundred and ten percent.” Sarah said, looking quite confused. “Percent literally means out of a hundred.”

“Smarty pants.” Anne rolled her eyes.

“It’s not being smart, it’s literally obvious. Per cent. It’s right there in the word.” Sarah groaned. “I can’t do this.”

“Good thing I’m leaving.” Harry grinned. “I don’t have to hear this all year.”

“I’ll write you daily updates.” Drew told him seriously. “If we have to suffer, we’re taking you down with us.”

“Am I the other part of the ‘we’?” Matt frowned.

“You and mum.” Drew nodded.

“I’m glad to know I make you all suffer.” Sarah said, crossing her arms.

“Anyway.” Harry said, trying to change the topic. “Me. Train. I’m important. Me.”

“Who are you, again?” Anne frowned up at her brother.

“I’m the best.” Harry grinned.

“You suck.” Anne corrected him.

“Burn.” Drew snorted.

“You suck.” Harry rolled his eyes, shoving Drew lightly.

“You’ll miss the train, and then we can all suck together.” James said, pushing Harry toward the train. “All year.”

“Wow, someone’s eager to get rid of me.” Harry pulled a face.

“I’m going to be seeing you in four hours.” James said mournfully. “I’ll never be able to get rid of you.”

“What a sad life you lead.” Anne sighed sympathetically.

“Alright, alright. No more teasing your brother.” Lily kissed Harry’s cheek. “Behave, young man. I mean it when I say no trouble.”

“Mum, come on.” Harry pulled the sleeve of his sweater over his hand before rubbing at his face. He hoped none of the other boys had seen him-- he knew that Seamus, at least, would hold this over him for years. “We’re in public.” Thankfully, the area seemed clear, so he quickly hugged his mother.

“Your siblings are perfectly fine with it.” Lily frowned. “And you’ve never complained before.”

“He’s a big boy, Lily.” James grinned, ruffling Harry’s hair. “All grown up. Can’t hang out with his mother anymore, or do anything fun.”

“I’m suing him.” Lily said, her expression entirely serious. “This is unacceptable.”

“Better start running, kid.” James said, shaking his head. “Last time she said she was going to sue me, I ended up married to her.”

“I don’t have to worry about that, thankfully.” Harry said.

“Yeah, but you’re her kid. There’s worse options for you.” James pointed out.

“Bye!” Harry yelled, before running for the train, pushing the trolley in front of him. Luckily, he caught sight of Ron and Hermione bickering in one of the compartments, and boarded the train at the entrance closest to them. “Later, losers! See you in December!” He called to his siblings before, grabbing Hedwig’s cage in one hand and the handle of his trunk in the other, and dragged them both along behind him to the door of the compartment.

“Hey, let me in!” He yelled, putting down Hedwig’s cage to bang on the door with a fist.

Ron got to his feet, pulling the door open. “Harry, you’ll never believe what we saw at the Cup.” He said, though his tone was more exasperated than excited. “Hermione won’t shut up about it.”

“What I won’t shut up about”, Hermione said bitterly, “is that Ron finds it absolutely necessary to be a bigot.”

“A bigot about what?” Harry asked, dragging his trunk in before doubling back to grab Hedwig’s cage. He sat down beside Hermione, setting Hedwig’s cage down beside him.

“I’m not being a bigot!” Ron groaned. “She’s upset because Crouch gave his house elf some clothes. Y’know, fired her.”

“Freed her just randomly?” Harry frowned. “That’s gotta be scary, for the elf.”

“Exactly!” Hermione said, looking absolutely livid at Ron. “Winky has no work experience outside serving the Crouch family, and lost her job over something she didn’t do! By keeping house elves bound to a family’s service, you’re owning slaves, as well as perpetuating and endorsing inequality and human superiority. They need pay, and freedom and reparations, and all sorts of other things.”

“He didn’t free her randomly-- she didn’t do what he said, and she was found with the wand that cast the Dark Mark.” Ron told Harry. “I don’t think he should have given her clothes or anything, she was really upset. But Hermione is being ridiculous. House elves don’t want any of those things!”

“Nobody wants to be enslaved, Ronald.” Hermione spat, looking away. It was almost as if she didn’t even want to acknowledge that Ron existed. “And nobody wants to be told that they’re lesser than. If you think that’s what the house elves want, then you’re an idiot.”

“I think”, Harry began, before pausing to collect his thoughts. His family hadn’t ever owned house elves, and he didn’t think the Weasleys had, but it was still a point of pride among most Pureblood families to have house elves to do the work they would rather not expend any energy on. Harry, as much of his family had in the past, thought it was a rather ridiculous custom, and should be done away with, but in a way that benefitted the house elves. “I think this isn’t something you should be fighting about, Ron. I mean, wizarding ideas of superiority have done a lot of crap to a lot of people. And house elves. And centaurs. And giants. And tons of others. They all deserve an equal chance at a good life, yeah?”

“I didn’t say they don’t.” Ron frowned. “But you can talk to any of them-- they’re happy doing what they do. They don’t want to get paid or have vacations or. Any of that other stuff.”

“They might just be used to it, Ron.” Harry cut in, before Hermione could speak. She looked like she could use a break. “They might not know how to ask for those things anymore, since they’ve gone without pay or basic freedoms for so long.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’re a house elf.” He frowned.

“New topic.” Harry said, sounding slightly panicked. Hermione looked as if she would explode, and the last time Ron and Hermione had fought this badly, they hadn’t spoken to each other for weeks. It was an odd departure from how close they’d been at the Quidditch Cup, hardly a week and a half before. Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that something had happened, but he knew that he wanted absolutely no part in it. “How d’you think Voldemort’s going to pop up this year?”

“That’s a horrid question.” Hermione said bluntly.

“We’ve got to brainstorm.” Harry shrugged. “How would we know otherwise?”

“Maybe he’ll show up with a whole army of cronies, kidnap Harry and force him into some crazy duel to the death.” Ron snorted. “Personally, I’d like it if he’d give us the year off, for once.”

“I meant reasonable guesses, Ron.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Try again.”

“Maybe he will take a break.” Hermione said, sounding the tiniest bit hopeful, before shaking her head. “Who am I kidding? He’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, with our luck.”

“No one.” Harry said, sighing. He ran a hand through his hair, before trying to push it down so it would lay flat. As usual, no luck. He didn’t need a mirror to know that the usual thousand directions it was sticking up in had likely increased, and exponentially. “You’re kidding no one.”

“First year, he stuck himself on the back of our muggle studies teacher’s head. Second year, he summoned a bloody snake to kill us all, and now he’s got Pettigrew back. It’s only going to go downhill from here, if you ask me.” Ron mumbled.

“His most loyal servant.” Harry said quietly, nodding slowly. He’d told Ron and Hermione about the prophecy over the summer, writing down all he could remember. “He will rise again with his servant’s aid, greater and more terrible than he ever was.” The words came to him easily, and why wouldn’t they, when he’d been turning them over in his head all summer? He’d told his parents he didn’t remember, and they, thankfully, had bought into the lie.

“You alright, Harry?” Ron asked. “You sound like the weight of the world is going to crush you, one of these days.”

“If we hadn’t gone, then they wouldn’t have found Pettigrew. But he escaped because we were there.” Harry said, frowning, as he tapped his fingers against the top of his thigh. He’d struggled with this all summer, but the noise of the Potter home had provided him with enough distraction that it hadn’t occupied his every thought. Now, without the background noise of four fighting siblings and two loud parents, it bounced around in his brain constantly. “It’s not our fault, but it is. And now, if Trelawney’s to be believed, he’s coming back with Pettigrew’s help.”

“Prophecies could be wrong.” Hermione said, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Most of the ‘prophecies’ she made within the first term alone were lucky guesses.”

“True, I mean, beware a redheaded man?” Harry snorted. “What’s Ron ever done to Parvati?”

“Well, when Pettigrew got into the dorms, I woke everyone up with my shouting.” Ron suggested. “She wasn’t too pleased with that.”

“Well, half points on that one, because we all woke up, and I can guarantee that Parvati wasn’t the only one angry at you.” Harry shrugged, before remembering something. “Lavender’s rabbit did die, though, so that one was true. Don’t know about Dean’s dad, though.”

“Dean’s parents are Muggles, aren’t they?” Hermione frowned. “Why would Trelawney be making prophecies about them?”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe Mr. Thomas has a cool job or something.”

“Maybe he’s one of those blokes who fly rockets and fight space aliens!” Ron grinned, most likely recalling events he’d read in Fred and George’s pilfered comic books.

“Ron, for the millionth time, Martin Miggs isn’t nonfiction!” Harry groaned, prompting a laugh from Ron, who had probably just done it for the joke. “Muggles don’t have those!”

“He’s not a dentist, that’s for sure.” Hermione spoke up. “My parents would know him then.”

“And he’s a Muggle, so neither of my parents know him either.” Harry shrugged. “More due to the fact that we leave the Wizarding World exactly once a year than anything else.”

“Can’t imagine your parents would be too horrible about Muggles.” Hermione said.

“They’re not horrible about Muggles, and definitely not to them, unless we’re talking about the Dursleys. But then again, the Dursleys are horrible to my parents, so it’s well deserved.” Harry nodded. “I’m still convinced Mum isn’t actually related to Aunt Petunia. One of these days we’ll find out that she just got left on their doorstep with the milk bottles, and no one’s said a word about it.”

“I’ve seen your letters about her, obviously, but is she really that bad?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, she’s horrid. Treats my sisters worse than she treats me, which is even worse than treating me bad.” Harry said, with a frown. “Got it out for Sarah, especially. Can’t imagine why. She’s not too bad. Except I can imagine why, actually. It’s ‘cause she looks like Dad and not Mum.”

Hermione settled back into her seat in silence, her arm slipping off Harry’s shoulder, and he threw an arm around her shoulders instead. “Aunt Petunia’s the type of person who sprays her house with enough flowery air fresheners to give people headaches. Do we really care about her opinion?”

“Hell no.” Ron groaned. “She’s as batty as Percy. Speaking of-- did I tell you he got a job, Harry? Works in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Won’t shut up about it, when dad manages to drag him home.”

“Oh, no.” Harry groaned. “Percy in the Ministry? We’ll never hear the end of it.”

 

“It sounds like an thrilling job.” Hermione said, looking quite interested. “International Magical Cooperation seems very complicated-- Percy must take to that environment well.”

“Complicated? He’s in charge of regulating the standardizing of cauldron bottom thickness.” Ron frowned. “It sounds positively mind-numbing.”

“That… wasn’t what I’d imagined.” Hermione said, looking very much like she wanted to take back her last statement.

“I figured it was some cool international relations type thing too, Hermione.” Harry said, shaking his head. “It wasn’t just you.”

“Nothing Percy does is cool.” Ron rolled his eyes. “But Fred and George won a boatload of money betting on the Cup- they’re going to start a business.”

“Are they really?” Harry grinned. “They’ve been talking about the joke shop for years! I’m glad they’re getting a start on it, finally.”

“A joke shop?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, they’ve been going on and on about it since Ron and I can remember.” Harry said, a note of fondness creeping into his voice. “About what they’d put in it and how much they’d sell it for. Great businessmen, our Fred and George.”

“They’re calling it Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes!” Ron said, looking rather proud of his brothers. “They’ve got some brilliant ideas, Hermione. Put lots of work into it!”

“Yeah, they’ve got these sweets that turn your tongue colors and make it all stretchy, and you won’t believe what they did to Percy with them.” Harry laughed. “They were congratulating him over graduating, or something, and they handed one to him, and Percy just stuck it in his mouth, and suddenly--” Harry waved his hands in front of his mouth, as if indicating that Percy’s tongue grew rather fast. “It was brilliant, and I only heard about it in Ron’s letter!”

“That sounds terrifying.” Hermione said, frowning. “Is Percy alright?”

“He’s fine.” Ron said dismissively. “Tried to give the twins a run for their money, but then Mum started yelling and they ignored him. Fred and George have been using the lot of us as victims for years. I reckon we’re used to it by now.”

“It’s what siblings are for, Ron.” Harry said, nodding seriously. “Experimentation.”

“Anne could kill you without bothering to wake up.” Ron told his friend seriously.

“Also true. Never said I was the one in charge.” Harry grinned. “If the teachers think I’m bad, they’ve no idea what’s coming.”

“Maybe keeping your siblings out of trouble will keep you out of it.” Hermione said, again daring to be hopeful.

 

“Honestly, I doubt it.” Harry shrugged. “I managed just fine the last few years of primary and I was bailing them out the whole time.”

“We’re doomed, Hermione. We might as well pack our bags now.” Ron sighed.

“Plot twist. It’s not Voldemort you should be worrying about.” Harry said, with as much gravity as he could muster. “It’s me.”

“It’s been awful quiet.” Harry remarked, as they left the carriage and walked up the path to the castle. “On the Malfoy front, I mean.” 

* * *

 

And, as if the mention of his name was enough to summon him, Draco stepped in front of the trio. He was flanked, as always, by Crabbe and Goyle.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry said tiredly, turning to face Draco. “I hope it didn’t take you this long to come up with a comeback for what I said at the Cup. That’d just be pathetic.”

“Almost as pathetic as you.” Draco sneered. “Or your friend Weasley, here. I saw your family at the Cup-- nearly called security on you. I suppose the only way you got into the game was because of a charity case?”

“Why don’t you bugger off, Malfoy?” Ron frowned. “Dad works at the Ministry, just the same as yours. Except my dad makes an honest go of it.”

“I hardly think your family can compare to mine.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Maybe you’re planning on entering, then? There’s money involved, of course, so perhaps you’d be able to afford some decent robes if you won.”

“What are you talking about?” Ron frowned.

“Are you going to enter?” Draco repeated. “Obviously Potter is, considering he can’t miss a chance to show off.”

“Can’t miss a chance to show off?” Hermione nearly growled, hands balling into fists. “And entering what?”

“Oh, that’s brilliant.” Draco suddenly seemed overcome with sadistic glee. “Weasley, your father and brother work at the ministry and you don’t even know? My father told me ages ago, of course. But Father has always associated with top people, and not those as low on the food chain as your father is.”

“Unless you want to get punched in the face again, I suggest you make yourself scarce, Malfoy. Immediately.” Hermione looked ready to follow through on her threat. That was a sudden turn, Harry thought. Only hours before, she’d been ready to tear Ron to pieces, but now she was coming to his defense. Back to normal, then, he thought gladly. Hopefully it stayed that way.

“Don’t blame me if they don’t talk about important things in front of unimportant people.” Draco laughed as he turned to leave.

Ron looked ready to go after him, his face almost as red as his hair. “Always acting like he knows everything we don’t.” He snarled. “‘Father has always associated with top people’... Dad can get a promotion any bloody time he likes! He just likes it where he is!”

“He’s doing good stuff, your dad.” Harry nodded. Mr. Weasley’s work in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office was often overlooked, despite the fact that spelled Muggle objects were extremely dangerous, and caused so much harm that there were healers at Saint Mungo’s that specialized in treating injuries caused by them. “People don’t get how important his job is, that’s all.”

“One day, Malfoy is going to have to deal with muggle stuff, and he’s going to eat his words!” Ron turned and stalked towards the castle, leaving Harry and Hermione to hurry after him.

Harry ran after Ron, Hermione following right behind him. “I’ll be good all semester, and then we’ll destroy Slytherin in Quidditch and the House Cup. That’ll show him! Remember how he sulked after we took the Cup last year?”

“He’s a baby.” Ron grumbled. “Can’t stand it when things don’t go his way. Let’s kick his butt.”

“He’s smarmy and entitled.” Hermione said bitterly, as they stomped into the Entrance Hall. “And thinks he knows everything to boot.”

“Who knows, maybe one day his head’ll get so big that his broom won’t work.” Harry muttered.

Ron, who offered up a tentative smile, was interrupted by a water balloon exploding on his head. He shouted loudly, spluttering through the water streaming down his face as he stumbled into Hermione. He accidentally shoved her out of the way of a second water balloon, which burst against the floor, spilling a cold wave of water over Harry’s sneakers.

“Great.” Harry drawled, lifting his foot to shake it, leaving a puddle of water on the stone floor. “Wet socks. Good start to a great year.”

“PEEVES!” Shouted an angry voice. Professor McGonagall stormed out of the Great Hall, fury clear in her expression. “Peeves, come down here at ONCE!”

“I ain’t doin’ nothing!” Peeves cackled, lobbing water balloons at the screaming students.

“I will call the headmaster, Peeves!” McGonagall shouted.

The poltergeist let out a disappointed groan, dropping his last handful of balloons onto a group of sixth year Slytherins before zipping off.

“Peeves, truly raining on our parade.” Harry said cheerfully, looking to Ron, then Hermione. “Any takers? No? It was a good joke!”

Ron shoved his sopping hair from his face, huffing out a breath. “This is going to be a long year.” He muttered.

“Yeah.” Harry said, as they reached the Gryffindor table, and sat down at the first empty spot he could find. “I’m tired already, and school hasn’t even started.”

Hermione sat down at his left side, shaking her head. “It’s not nearly as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

“So you admit it’s bad in the first place!” Harry said eagerly, always one to recognize a victory. “I can’t believe it. Hermione Granger, admitting school is emotionally draining. A truly important moment. I’m telling you, Ron, this one’s going into the history books.”

“Hogwarts, A History.” Ron said dramatically, throwing an arm out. “Chapter Twenty-Two. Hermione Granger finally stops lying.”

“Any words of wisdom, Miss Granger?” Harry held an imaginary microphone up to Hermione’s face. “Give the children some advice?”

“The feast’s about to start.” Hermione said, shoving Harry’s shoulder lightly. “Pay attention.”

Sure enough, the doors to the Great Hall opened. The new first years trooped in, staring around in awe. One particularly short child made quite the entrance. He was sopping wet- looking more as though he’d swum across the Great Lake rather than sailed. He had Hagrid’s enormous coat draped over his shoulder, and immediately began waving frantically to Colin Creevey.

“Reckon he fell in?” Ron whispered.

“Don’t need to be Hermione to know that.” Harry said, grinning. “I get the feeling we’re about to add a second Creevey to our ranks.”

McGonagall, who had been calling out names during this exchange, suddenly announced that it time for, “Creevey, Dennis,” to take his turn. The soaked child hurried up to the stool, nearly tripping over Hagrid’s coat as he took a seat.

“GRYFFINDOR!” The hat roared. The Gryffindor table erupted into cheers as Dennis joined his brother.

“I fell into the lake, Colin!” He shouted in delight. “I fell right in, and something grabbed me and pushed me back onto the boat!”

“That must have been the giant squid!” Colin gasped.

“Is it just me or do the firsties get smaller every year?” Harry mused, watching Dennis and Colin chatter excitedly at each other. “We weren’t that short, not by far.”

“You were definitely that small.” Ron smirked. He had always been taller than Harry.

“Was not.” Harry muttered angrily, pulling a face. He knew for a fact that he had been, but it wasn’t like Ron had to point that out. The other Sortings passed by in a blur-- he didn’t recognize even one of the names after Creevey’s, which was a surprise. At next year’s, though, he thought, he’d recognize at least one, for sure. That’d be a riot.

“So, that’s done with.” Harry said, as the last first year trotted off toward the Slytherin table. “A couple fresh faces, that’s nice.”

“Definitely a nervous bunch, for sure.” Hermione said. “Did you see the first kid to get sorted?”

“Didn’t notice, no.” Harry said, scratching the back of his head. “What’d he do?”

“Tripped over his shoelaces three times on the way to the Hufflepuff table. Someone had to go over and get him, eventually.” She sighed. “I don’t know what he thinks he’s got to be scared of. The Hufflepuffs are quite nice.”

“Unless you’re a murder suspect.” Harry piped up. “Then they’re downright evil.”

“I don’t reckon any of the Hufflepuffs are murder suspects.” Ron laughed.

“I meant me, but okay.” Harry shrugged.

“Oh.” Ron blinked, recalling their second year. “You’re right. I’m sorry, mate.”

“All good.” Harry shrugged, before looking back to the teachers’ table. “Alright, Dumbledore. Give us a good one.”

His father and Snape were glaring daggers at each other, like usual, although someone had finally had the forethought to put them at opposite sides of the table this year. For the last three years, they’d been within solid stabbing distance, and Harry was quite surprised neither of them had offed each other during the Welcoming Feast itself.

The new seating arrangement probably had something to do with Snape making Uncle Remus’ lycanthropy public knowledge that summer, and Uncle Remus’ subsequent firing from his job. Harry’s entire family had been out for blood, after that, despite Uncle Remus’ wishes that they avoid confrontation at all costs, and Harry was sure that the next time there weren’t people sitting between them, Snape was not going to come out of it smiling.

Dumbledore got to his feet, arms wide as he stared out at the students with warm eyes. “I have only two words for you.” He said, his voice echoing through the Great Hall. “Tuck in.”

Ron let out a whoop as the plates filled with all sorts of food.

“I must say, the house elves have outdone themselves this year!” Nearly Headless Nick said, as he swooped over the table.

Hermione immediately pushed away her plate.

“Hermione, you can’t not eat.” Harry said gently, pushing her plate back toward her again. “That’s not safe.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Hermione said glumly, before pushing the plate back. “It’s fine. I’ve got some food in my trunk.”

“You’re going to have to eat the food at some point this year.” Ron frowned, looking more concerned than annoyed at this point.

“It’s fine, Ronald.” She snapped.

Harry dug into the food, shoveling it into his mouth quickly to minimize the amount of time Hermione would have to go after him for eating it. If Hermione really didn’t want to eat the house elves’ food, he could easily fake his picky eating phase coming back and ask his father to bring extra food along for him. Then he’d just pass it on to Hermione, and no one would be the wiser. Of course, she’d likely get on his case for doing that, but it was better than her not eating at all.

The feast passed quickly after that, and Hermione refused to eat another bite, despite Ron’s urgings. After the plates had been magically cleared, Dumbledore once again got to his feet.

“Now that we’re all fed,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes, “I suppose I should give out a few notices. To our first years, I would like to make it abundantly clear that the Forbidden Forest is, in fact, forbidden. It is also my duty to inform all students that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not be taking place this year.”

“Cancelling Quidditch?” Harry stood up, looking horrified. “That’s evil! Pure evil!”

The twins looked equally as horrified, though were entirely shocked into silence.

“Sit down.” Hermione hissed. “No one else is standing. Or yelling.”

“Sorry.” Harry sat back down, feeling quite awkward. Even his father looked a little confused, at the teacher’s table, and he was the only person Harry knew that loved Quidditch more than he did. “That was a little much, wasn’t it?”

“This will be due to an event taking place starting in October, which will span the rest of the school year. It will take up much of the teachers’ time and energy, and will be quite enjoyable for the students as well. It is my pleasure to announce that Hogwarts will be hosting the first Triwizard Tournament to take place in over a century.”

“YOU’RE JOKING!” George exclaimed, shooting to his feet much as Harry had a few moments ago.

“I’m not joking, Mr. Weasley.” said Dumbledore, with an amused chuckle. “The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place on Halloween. For those that are unaware of what the Tournament itself is, I will provide a brief explanation. For many years, the Triwizard Tournament was regarded as a brilliant way to have young witches and wizards of differing nationalities create ties with each other. A champion is selected to represent each school-- one each from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang-- and the three of them will compete in three different, challenging magical tasks. The one that wins the competition will bring eternal glory to their school, their name, and a prize of one thousand Galleons. Unfortunately, the death toll soon mounted too high for the tournament to continue.”

“A death toll?” Hermione exclaimed. “Does he hear himself talk?”

“We have been working tirelessly to ensure that all students and champion’s safety will be of the utmost priority by instituting certain security measures.”

“I guess we don’t need to wonder about how Voldemort’ll be making his entrance this year.” Harry said gloomily. “Death competition? He’s here.”

“I’m going for it.” Fred decided.

“One such measure will be an age restriction. The contenders must be seventeen years of age, legal adult, therefore barring anyone below their sixth year.” Dumbledore continued.

“I’ve never loved being fourteen more.” Harry said, sighing in relief. That was one crisis averted-- he was simply too young to get involved in this mess. “I’m safe. Brilliant.”

“We’re only seventeen in April.” George insisted quietly, frowning at his twin. “They can’t bar us taking a shot, right?”

“I’m entering anyways.” Fred said stubbornly. “A thousand Galleons prize money. Just think about it, George.”

“Ron, I might get a full night’s sleep most of the nights this year.” Harry said, awestruck. “Can you imagine?”

“Sleep, or the prize money?” Ron asked. “I’m sort of torn.”

“Sleep.” Harry said, frowning in confusion. “Who needs eternal glory?”

“I dunno.” Ron said wistfully. “It’d probably be pretty cool…”

“You’ve already got eternal glory with one person, mate.” Harry nudged Ron in the ribs with his elbow. “McGonagall still thinks you’re a genius for smashing the death chess our first year. Plus, I’m pretty sure there’s a limitation on how long you can be angry about that sort of thing, and it might be up.”

Ron grinned at his friend, shoving at his shoulders. “It was just chess.” He snorted, despite looking quite pleased. “I kick your butt at it all the time.”

“You’re a legend to me, no matter how weird everyone else thinks you are, Ron.” Harry slapped his friend on the back. “To Hermione too, of course.” He added quickly.

“I’m glad the two of you have realized I’m still here.” Hermione said dryly. “Feel free to continue.”

“Oh, good.” Harry grinned. “I was worried you were feeling left out.”

Dumbledore dismissed the students not even a minute later, and Harry, Ron and Hermione took the familiar route up a few flights of stairs to Gryffindor Tower, before climbing through the portrait hole to the Common Room.

“Feels like coming home, a little.” Harry mused, as they looked around the familiar room, still full of comfortable looking armchairs. “Coming back here.”

“I get what you mean.” Hermione said, a slight smile on her face as she surveyed her surroundings. “I have a good feeling about this year.”

“Me too, actually.” Ron said with a happy sigh. “Maybe, for once, nothing too crazy will happen.”


	4. Star Charts and Social Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “For your information,” Hermione said resolutely, “I’m starting a club.”
> 
> “A club?” Harry asked, surprised. “We have those?”
> 
> “Yes, several.” Hermione said. “And this one’s the newest at Hogwarts. I’m calling it the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. I was going to name it Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status, but that was too long for a badge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Four's up, and what a chapter it is! I got to say rocket farts twice! If anything is a measure of good writing (and having a fun time in general), that absolutely is. 
> 
> Things are going to get real next week, guys. You ready? Buckle up, cause the wild ride's about to start!
> 
> -S

“Ron, it’s the first day, and we’re already late!” Harry yelled, as they raced down to the Great Hall, as if this was new.

“It’s only breakfast!” Ron shouted back, obviously disgruntled at the early-morning rush. “It isn’t like we need to get to class, yet!”

“Yeah, like you could survive Binns without breakfast.” Harry said, as they passed through the doors into the Great Hall. “Do we even have Binns today?”

“No!” Came the relieved answer. “We’ve got Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins, and then Double Divination!”

“Herbology with the Hufflepuffs?” Harry heaved a sigh of relief. “I’m partnering with Neville all year and you can’t stop me. In fact, I’m calling dibs on him. Right now.”

“You’re a traitor, Harry Potter.” Ron groaned.

“You’re just upset you didn’t get to him first.” Harry grinned, before spotting Hermione. “And there’s the lady we’ve been looking for.” He ran over, noticing there was a spot free beside Hermione, and sat down. “Good morning!”

“You’re awfully cheerful, for the first day of school.” Hermione said, looking quite excited herself. “But you’ve got Double Divination, so you must be expecting a nap later.”

“I forgot about that!” Harry said cheerfully. “Built in nap time, Ron. Can you believe it?”

“I’m mostly excited to see Professor Trelawney predict your death again.” He said, climbing into the seat on Hermione’s other side. “You’re lucky you dropped out to take Arithmancy, Hermione.”

“And Ancient Runes.” Hermione replied, pushing her food around her plate with her fork before deciding she might as well eat something. “Don’t forget Ancient Runes.” She said, after swallowing.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Ron’s sarcastic retort was undermined by his happy smile. He was glad to see her eating again. “Got hungry, huh?”

“There are better ways to fight for house elf rights than a hunger strike.” Hermione said, shrugging.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!” Harry said brightly, patting Hermione on the back.

“Any food is important, as long as it’s going into my mouth.” Ron decided, grabbing a plate for himself.

“That’s a good way to look at it.” Harry grabbed a piece of buttered toast off one of the plates, and started munching on it. “Have either of you seen Ginny lately? She didn’t even say hello to me at the Cup. It’s like she forgot that she was my friend before she was Sarah’s.”

“She was only your friend first because Sarah wasn’t born yet.” Ron shrugged. “But I saw her in the common room this morning.”

“Are you saying Sarah’s better than me?” Harry said, scowling at Ron. “I’m totally more fun than her! All she does is read and tell other people they’re making bad decisions.”

“Maybe you should listen to her sometimes.” Hermione said with a shrug, and Harry groaned.

“I have no friends. Officially.” Harry said mournfully. “You both hate me. I knew it.”

“Isn’t Sarah coming to Hogwarts next year?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, but don’t ditch me for her then.” Harry grumbled, sticking his tongue out at Ron. “Good thing, though. I don’t think Ginny’s hanging out with anyone other than Luna and Neville. I mean, first year’s when you make a bunch of friends, and she had a rough go of it then.”

Ron’s expression darkened slightly at the reminder of Ginny’s possession. “Yeah. Guess so.”

“Luna?” Hermione asked, frowning slightly, before she nodded, frown disappearing. “Oh, Loony Lovegood. So that’s her name.”

“Don’t call her that.” Ron said, frowning. “You can’t go around petitioning for house elf rights and then call Luna that.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Hermione admitted, looking quite surprised. Harry was glad Ron had pointed it out-- he would’ve brought it up if Ron hadn’t.

“I mean, it’s not just house elves that need help. It’s everyone who isn’t normal, whatever that is.” Harry said, looking to Hermione. “And just ‘cause Luna does things a little differently doesn’t mean her way’s wrong. She’s just taking a different path to the same answer. Anyone who thinks otherwise has got a nasty case of Wrackspurts. That’s the right one, right, Ron?”

“Wrackspurts?” Hermione asked, looking skeptical.

“Wrackspurts.” Ron agreed. “They get in through your ears and make your brain go all fuzzy. Luna’s an expert on them. And Nargles and all sorts of other stuff.”

“Mr. Lovegood researches all kinds of cool magical creatures, and sometimes he takes Luna along.” Harry said, taking another bite of his toast. “We should tell Hagrid to owl him for some ideas, maybe that’d make classes a little more interesting.” And then, suddenly, it hit him-- today was Hagrid’s first class without Remus, and Malfoy would be there to make things even worse. “We’ve all got to stick close to Hagrid today. It’s his first class alone, and he’s probably a bit nervous. I mean, I would be.”

“Should I get into a fight with Malfoy so he isn’t in class?” Ron asked. He was obviously still angry about Draco’s nasty comments about his father from the night before.

“Nah, then you’d be gone, and that’d make Hagrid sad.” Harry said, looking to Hermione. “Have you got a plan?”

“No one fight Malfoy unless he publicly gives you a reason.” Hermione said, obviously already cooking up a plan. Harry was thankful she at least tried to plan things, still-- proof that the fire of optimism in Hermione’s heart hadn’t burned out yet, despite the fact that their plans never seemed to work. “And it has to be a good reason, and within view of Hagrid or at least three other Gryffindors, so they can back us up if a teacher asks.”

“He gives me a reason every time he opens his mouth!” Ron exclaimed.

“True, but if we get in trouble, we can’t say that Malfoy’s mouth was the reason you fought him.” Hermione said, looking quite sad that this was not the case. “McGonagall would agree, but that wouldn’t stand up if anyone else asked. And if we’re going to fight Malfoy, we need an argument that’s even Snape proof.”

“I’ll beat up Snape too.” Ron grumbled, shoving a piece of toast into his mouth.

“You can’t beat up Snape. He’s a teacher.” Hermione said bitterly, stabbing at the food on her plate. Between the punch she’d dealt Malfoy last year and the fact that she, as a first year, had set Snape’s robes on fire without a second’s doubt, Harry was quite sure that Hermione could take Snape down any time she chose. That would be a good fight. He would pay to watch that.

“But someone else can.” Harry said thoughtfully, looking to the teacher’s table, where his father’s usual seat was noticeably empty. He was likely still at home, rounding up Harry’s siblings for school. Both parents were necessary for that, something which Harry knew firsthand, because Drew liked school even less than he did. “My dad’s a teacher. He could beat up Snape.”

“He totally could.” Ron agreed. “He’d kick Snape’s greasy ass, too! He used to play professional Quidditch, and Snape doesn’t look like he’s exercised a day in his life.”

“No use dreaming about things that aren’t going to happen, boys.” Hermione said, shaking her head, before shouldering her bag. She was right-- Harry’s father wouldn’t beat up Snape, not while his job could be at stake. “Come on. Sprout won’t like it if we’re late.”

Harry shoved the rest of his toast into his mouth before wiping his hands off on his robes, flicking a few breadcrumbs that stuck to them off the fabric. Hermione scowled at him, obviously not impressed with his lack of manners, and Harry, who would have smiled with his mouth open at anybody else in the world, thankfully kept his mouth shut, managing a sheepish grin once he’d swallowed his toast. “Let’s go!”

Herbology, as usual, wasn’t too difficult-- Sprout immediately set the students to collecting Bubotuber pus, and there was no need for partners, as the task at hand was simply popping the swellings on the Bubotuber plants and draining the greenish liquid within them into glass bottles. That, of course, didn’t stop Harry and Neville from making silly faces at each other across the table while collecting the pus.

By the end of the period, the room smelled strongly of petrol, and Harry was quite glad he had been wearing gloves the whole time. When diluted, Bubotuber pus could cure even the worst of acne, but when undiluted Bubotuber pus came into contact with bare skin, it caused large, yellow boils. Harry grimaced. Sounded like one of those things that would be horrid to get wrong.

“Now we’re in for care of magical creatures!” Ron enthused as they raced across the grounds. “It’s going to rock!”

But Care of Magical Creatures, if anything, proved to be worse. So much so that even Draco Malfoy’s usual pointless complaining about the class, Harry admitted grudgingly, was actually spot on. Hagrid, rather than taking up knitting or a sport, had spent his summer breeding Blast Ended Skrewts, which Harry had decided looked rather like angry lobsters with stingers, who propelled themselves using rocket farts. Rocket farts. Unbelievable. And now the students were all suffering for Hagrid’s mistake.

“The ones with the stingers are the males, I think.” Hagrid called loudly, just as Ron narrowly avoided being bitten by a particularly vicious Skrewt. “An’ the ones with the--” He winced as a Slytherin cried out, wrapping their finger up in a corner of their robe. “The ones with the blood suckers, those are the females.”

Harry was rather exhausted by the time class finished, and had no idea how he got through lunch, but before he knew it, it was time for Divination. After a quick lunch, Hermione had disappeared off to the library, leaving Harry and Ron to trudge up to the Divination classroom alone.

Professor Trelawney stood before the class like a queen holding court. A very strange court, indeed, as it consisted of teenagers, in various states of awareness, arranged around tables scattered haphazardly about the smoke-filled room. Ron and Harry took their seats in two oversized armchairs as their teacher began speaking.

“Today we consider the stars, my dears.” she intoned. “By studying the heavens, we may yet discover what they have to tell us, if only we allow ourselves to understand their celestial dance…”

Harry had always hated astronomy, so musing about the stars wasn’t his favorite topic to begin with, but hearing about it from Trelawney only made it all the more boring. Celestial dance? Sounded downright awful. Even worse than the time he’d smacked Parvati in the face with one of his dandiya sticks, and he’d come away from that with a bloody nose and a black eye. And Trelawney’s voice, as always, seemed to be putting him right to sleep. It was only Ron’s timely slaps of his arm that kept Harry awake and remotely sentient throughout the class, and he was hoping desperately that the professor didn’t notice.

Unfortunately, Trelawney seemed rather annoyed with his inattention. “As I was saying…” She murmured. “Surely, you were born under the baleful influence of Saturn.”

“Excuse me?” Harry blinked in surprise, ignoring Ron’s chuckling from beside him. “What?”

“Saturn, my dear, the planet Saturn!” She sniffed, now obviously irritated with his lack of enthusiasm. “Your dark hair… Tragic events so young in life…. I think I am right in saying that you were born in midwinter?”

“Not even close.” Harry said, looking quite confused. “End of July, actually.”

Ron snorted loudly, attempting to disguise his amusement with a violent coughing fit.

“I see…” Trelawney frowned deeply, as though troubled by this new information, before sweeping off to attend to Lavender and Parvati.

“Midwinter?” Harry asked in disbelief, once Trelawney was out of earshot. “Has she not read my homework for the past year? I swear, birthdays were involved in all of that.”

“Have you seen the lady?” Ron’s voice dipped into a whisper, even as he began scrawling on his star chart. “She’d probably tell me I was a pureblood prat with brown hair and think nothing of it.”

“You are a pureblood prat, though, so she’d be at least half right. Two thirds?” Harry frowned. “She’d at least be sort of right. Midwinter, though? Really?”

“I’m not a prat.” Ron stuck his tongue out at his friend. “I dunno. She said something about Saturn, but I can’t make heads or tails of this star thing.”

“I’m not even sure how to start, so the fact that you have puts you ahead of me.” Harry said glumly. “Do the stars have to be in the right places? Or can we just draw stars? That’ll be a star chart.”

“No, we have to get predictions off of it, too.” Ron frowned deeply. “Maybe Hermione was right. This class is impossible.”

“I think I’ve got two Neptunes?” Harry said, before shrugging. “Who cares? She doesn’t read these anyway.”

“Aaaah.” Ron’s voice dropped into an eerily accurate impersonation of their professor. “When two Neptunes appear in the sky, that’s a sure sign that a midget in glasses is being born.”

“I’m not a midget.” Harry grumbled, pulling a face. “And I’ve only had these since I was eight, anyway. Not like I was born with them on.”

“You’re a midget until you get taller than me.” Ron shrugged. “Thems the rules.”

“Like that’s ever going to happen.” Harry said bitterly.

“It’s okay. I’ll still be your best friend, even if you stay fun sized for the rest of forever.” Ron patted his arm.

“That’s a comfort.” Harry said, although he was very much of the opinion it wasn’t. He was already taller than his mother, so it stood to reason that he was taking after his father in the height department. Or so he hoped.

The pair fell into silence as they worked on their charts. Ron snorted a few minutes later, holding up the parchment and pointing.

“Ron, no one wants to see Uranus!” Harry said, before breaking into laughter.

Ron burst out laughing as well, earning them the baleful gazes of the room’s other occupants. Luckily, the class was at a close, and Trelawney dismissed her students after, much to their displeasure, assigning a full essay on the star’s positions and their effect on the events that would take place over the course of the following week.

“I hate this class.” Harry groaned, as they left the classroom.

“See, the stars could’ve told you that.” Ron said seriously, and barely dodged the punch Harry leveled at his stomach.

* * *

“See, this is the only good part about having younger siblings. You can make them do your homework for you.” Harry said, as he read the letter he’d just received. Apart from Sarah, all of his siblings had contributed some Trelawney worthy answers he could use and reuse throughout the year. He would have to talk to Sarah about her fake predictions though-- “on Tuesday, I will thoughtlessly provoke a wizard more powerful than myself and then whine about having to deal with the consequences” was just insensitive and mean.

“Ginny’s hogging all the good lies to herself.” Ron grumbled, propping his head up on his fist. The two of them had taken up their usual spots in front of the fireplace, Harry perched on an armchair and Ron sprawled across the floor. Fred and George were huddled nearby, heads bent together over their own scroll of parchment.

“Anne says I’ll meet a pretty girl and embarrass myself in front of her so she’ll never want to speak to me, and that sounds reasonably fake, so I’ll put it down for Monday.” Harry put the letter aside to scribble down his answer on a blank piece of parchment. “Drew said I’d fall off my broom and sprain an ankle, so that’ll be Wednesday. I couldn’t tell him Quidditch was off for the year. Drew’s got enough to be sad about. My dad said-- oh, that’s definitely not school appropriate. No way.”

Harry was thankful his father hadn’t written his “prediction” in English-- Ron wouldn’t have understood it was meant as a joke, and Mrs. Weasley would be after them again. “Matt says the weather will be nice enough to have a picnic, and that I’d beat you at chess, so that’ll be Friday-- we’ve got a quiz coming in Potions already, so I suspect I’ll need a good day then. That leaves Tuesday and Thursday. Do you reckon I could drown in the bath on Tuesday?”

“I’ve got me getting into a fight on Tuesday, but I reckon I’d be too sad to fight anyone if you were dead.” Ron hummed. “Maybe you can get real sick instead?”

“I’ll suddenly fall ill on Tuesday, then. That just leaves Thursday open, and I suppose I can have a normal day Thursday. She wouldn’t buy that, though.” Harry tapped the feathery end of his quill against the side of his face a few times before smiling wide. “I’ll fight a dragon Thursday. That’ll explain the good day Friday, and put me in sufficient mortal danger to pass!”

“Yeah!” Ron grinned up at him. “I’m going to… lose a treasured possession, because Venus is in the twelfth house. Then I’ll… I dunno. I’ll lose a bet. That sounds good, right? Maybe I’m betting you’ll beat that dragon.”

“Don’t be silly, Ron, I could totally take a dragon--Hermione!” Harry called out cheerfully, causing Ron to look up from his work. Hermione came down the girls’ dormitory stairs, arms laden with what looked like several knit hats and socks, a wooden box, and several pieces of parchment. Harry put his work aside, running over to take some of the load. “You’ve brought presents!”

“They’re not presents, Harry, they’re clothes for the elves.” Hermione said, as Harry spun one around and around on his finger, grabbing the box from the top of the pile in her arms and tucking it under one of his arms before going back to his armchair. Something metallic sounding rattled around in the box, and Harry wondered what was in it.

“Clothes for the elves?” Ron sounded uncertain.

“For your information,” Hermione said resolutely, “I’m starting a club.”

“A club?” Harry asked, surprised. “We have those?”

“Yes, several.” Hermione said. “And this one’s the newest at Hogwarts. I’m calling it the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. I was going to name it Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status, but that was too long for a badge.”

“So”, Harry said, fighting to keep a grin off his face, “SPEW for short?”

“I didn’t think of that.” Hermione said, looking quite surprised. “An acronym would be a good idea. Thank you, Harry.”

“Don’t mention it.” Harry shrugged, going back to spinning the hat around on his finger. “SPEW. Wow.”

“Elves like to work, Hermione!” Called one of the twins, momentarily pulling away from their quiet planning.

“It’s a two Sickle fee to join.” Hermione said, trying her best to ignore Fred and George as she motioned to Harry to open the box. When he did, a multitude of badges were revealed, all different colors and bearing the word “SPEW” in large, golden letters. “And I expect the two of you to join.”

“How many members are there so far?” Ron asked, reaching to look at one of the pins.

“Counting the two of you? Three.” Hermione said, looking downcast for a second, before bouncing back. “But I’m sure there’ll be more soon.”

“I don’t think I’ve got any Sickles on me right now, but there’s bound to be something in my trunk upstairs. And Neville’ll join, so that’s one more member.” Harry offered. “Plus, I’m sure there are other students who would. And teachers. I’m sure if you tell them Snape won’t like it, all the teachers will buy a pin!”

“Harry’s dad will for sure.” Ron agreed. “And you know how the students love him. I’m sure it’d be good advertising.”

“Thanks.” Hermione said, looking a little more hopeful, before passing over a sheet of parchment, which had the name of the club and its manifesto written out in neat letters. Under it was Hermione’s name. “I’ll take the fee from you later, Harry, but both of you put your names down.”

Ron stared down at the parchment, his face screwed up into an odd expression. “.... Hey, guys?” He turned to look at the twins, who glanced up at him. “Either of you got a sickle or two I could borrow?”

“You don’t need to pay, Ron.” Hermione said, as if it were all business. “I put two extra Sickles in the box for you already. Just put your name down.”

Ron looked like he was going to argue, but deflated after a moment and scrawled his name under Hermione’s. He pushed the parchment towards Harry.

Harry scribbled his name right under Ron’s before handing the parchment back. “That’s three whole members. Can we choose what color we get?”

“You can have whatever badge you want.” Hermione said, before digging through the box to find a green one and tossing it over to Harry. “This is a nice one.”

Harry looked at it for a second, suddenly looking quite serious, before tossing it over to Ron and selecting a red one for himself. He pinned the badge on the shirt he was wearing, smile returning to his face. “You look splendid in green, Ronnie.”

“I look splendid in anything.” Ron shoved at Harry, but he did pin the badge to the front of his sweater, slightly to the right of the large ‘R’.

“You do.” Harry reached over to ruffle Ron’s hair. “It’s part of your charm.”

“If you’re done, we’ll need to decide on a time for official meetings and strategize to increase member retention, once we’ve found new members.” Hermione said, and Harry nodded seriously, patting Ron’s shoulder before trying his best to focus on the complex plans Hermione was likely about to outline.

“She’s right, Harry.” Ron said, pretending to be as serious as his companions. “Can’t spew out anymore nonsense. Time to get down to business.”


	5. The Goblet of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore swept his arm out, waiting for the smattering of applause to die down before beginning again. “This is a momentous occasion in the history of our school, and in the history of the wizarding world, I’m quite sure. You are all aware of the Tournament and the three champions that will be selected. Not by me, I assure you. But rather by an impartial judge… the Goblet of Fire.”
> 
> His words were punctuated by the unveiling of a rather ordinary cup-- or, rather, it would have been ordinary if it weren’t filled to the brim with blue flames. 
> 
> “A sentient cup.” Harry said, slipping a hand under his glasses to rub at his eyes as Hermione stared at Dumbledore in surprise. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, finally joining back up with the plot! 
> 
> Can't wait to see what you guys think of this chapter-- Lai and I have been planning this plot point and working on bits of this chapter for nearly a year now, and to finally sit down and write it was a big relief! Now we can focus what we're going to do with other future things that we're going to bring you, yeah?
> 
> Have a happy Halloween this weekend, and we'll see you again next Friday!
> 
> -S&L

The rest of September flew by in a rush of classes, essays and tests, and, before Harry could wrap his head around it, October had blanketed Hogwarts in a cold wind, the leaves, midway through changing colors, soaring through the air. And, with it, October brought more than chilly mornings and the promise of snow to come.

“So the other schools are coming tonight.” Ron announced excitedly. “They’ve got to be pretty cool, right?”

Harry shrugged. He knew little about Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, beyond their locations. Beauxbatons was somewhere in France, and Durmstrang was further north. Durmstrang was quite famous for having taught the Dark Arts to its students, and even now, most assumed that that particular line of study continued there. “Yeah. It’ll be fun to learn about how they do things, right?”

“The Beauxbatons students in particular.” Hermione said. “Did you know they have six years before their OWLs instead of five, like us? They must be doing something with that extra time.”

“Maybe you should transfer.” Ron rolled his eyes.

“That’s rude, Ron.” Harry said, throwing an arm about Hermione’s shoulders. “We’d be dead without Hermione, and that’s how you repay her for her kindness?”

“You wouldn’t be dead.” Hermione muttered, obviously trying to convince herself as much as them.

“You’re a horrid liar, you know?” Harry said, chuckling.

“We’d be dead a million times over. Like first year, with those potions. And second year, with the polyjuice. And you figured out about the basilisk. And last year… Well, you knew something was fishy about Scabbers, and then he turned out to be a creepy old dude, so that was good.” Ron listed off on his fingers.

“You’re brilliant, is what Ron’s saying.” Harry said, patting Hermione’s shoulder. Hermione looked sufficiently embarrassed, so Harry had done his job properly. “And me too, of course, I’m saying that as well. You’ll blow these other kids out of the water, I bet.”

“You have to remember that they’ll be coming from different teaching styles and perspectives.” Hermione said, although she looked quite proud to have been complimented. “They’ll likely know things we won’t.”

“And the other way too, so there’s opportunities.” Harry shrugged. “Who d’you suppose our champion will be?”

“Fred and George are trying to figure out ways to enter.” Ron said. “But I doubt it’ll work. Maybe one of the older Gryffindors?”

“Angelina would make an awesome champion.” Harry said. It was true-- Angelina Johnson, in all the years they’d played Quidditch together, had done nothing but fight hard and resourcefully. Any of his teammates, in fact, Fred and George included, would do a wonderful job.

“Is she old enough?” Ron asked. He’d never talked to Angelina much, and really only knew her as a member of the quidditch team. “I think Fred’s got a crush on her.”

“She’s older than Fred and George, I think.” Harry shrugged. “And they’re trying, so why shouldn’t she?”

“I’ll cheer for her.” Ron shrugged.

“We all will!” Harry said enthusiastically. “We’ll find out what the other schools have to offer tonight, then. Bet none of have anything on Hogwarts, though.”

Harry, as usual, was wrong.

The Beauxbatons students shortlisted as possible contenders for the title of champion arrived in the early afternoon in a pale blue horse drawn carriage that reminded Harry of something out of a story book, mostly because it flew. Hagrid, who had been there, gave a description that spent much more time on the headmistress than the flying carriage, which Harry thought was quite a shame, as he would’ve liked to know more about the carriage.

The students who had witnessed the Durmstrang delegation’s arrival spoke of a similarly dramatic entrance-- an old, worn looking boat had risen out of the middle of the Black Lake, and the students had apparently calmly disembarked as if that were entirely normal for them.

Harry himself had seen a couple of the Beauxbatons students around the school, but to walk into the Great Hall and see them all seated at the Ravenclaw table was highly disconcerting. Two of the tables had been enlarged slightly, to hold the larger number of students, and Harry wasn’t surprised to see the Durmstrang boys seated with the Slytherins. The headmaster of Durmstrang and the headmistress of Beauxbatons were both seated at the teacher’s table, and Harry noticed his father shooting nervous glances at Durmstrang’s headmaster.

Harry picked his usual seat at the Gryffindor table, alongside Ron and Hermione, and started serving himself food. “I thought at least someone would try to get on with us, but looks like Durmstrang’s gotten right to it with the Slytherins.”

“I’m not really surprised.” Ron rolled his eyes, idly glancing over the Durmstrang students. His mildly annoyed expression turned to one of shock, then to outright amazement. “Harry. Harry, look.”

“Look what?” Harry looked in the direction Ron had been staring, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“That’s Viktor Krum, mate!” Ron hissed, pointing wildly at a hunched over figure at the Slytherin table.

Once Ron had pointed it out, Harry was able to recognize the star Quidditch player. Viktor Krum seemed to dislike the attention he was getting from the Slytherin students, in addition to his own classmates, and was occupying himself mainly with finishing dinner rather than making conversation. “He’ll be Durmstrang’s champion, then, if they’re willing to risk him.”

“Wouldn’t have brought him if they weren’t willing.” Ron insisted, looking far too excited by the notion. “This is brilliant. He’s going to crush Angelina, of course, if she even is the champion.”

“Wish Seamus was old enough.” Harry said, sighing. “He’d just go out there and blow everything up so bad Krum would get stuck on the moon. But we’d need him back for Quidditch, and I don’t think there’s air in space. Is there, Hermione?”

“If he survived the explosion, he wouldn’t survive leaving the atmosphere.” Hermione shook her head. “Don’t go to the moon on accident. It doesn’t end well.”

“You can’t go to the moon.” Ron rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Yes, you can.” Harry said, frowning. “Muggles have gone to the moon tons of times.”

“He’s not lying, you know.” Hermione agreed. “They’ve actually done it, and without magic as well.”

Ron, now distracted from Victor, looked suitably flabbergasted. “You’re pulling my leg, right?”

“D’you know there’s no wind on the moon?” Harry piped up. “If you drew something in the moon dirt, it’d just stay there. So if someone drew a dick on the moon, it’d be there. For all of eternity.”

“Boys…” Hermione muttered darkly, stabbing at her peas with a fork.

“Wicked.” Ron whispered in awe. “Hermione, I want to go to the moon. That must be awesome.”

“The moon sounds far away, though.” Harry said, running a hand through his hair. “I doubt I’d last that long away from home.”

“That’s cause you’re a mama’s boy. You’d miss your mum too much.” Ron laughed. “Can you cry on the moon?”

“Arsehole.” Harry muttered darkly. He was not a mama’s boy, not at all. Sure, he valued his mother’s input above most other things in the world, but that didn’t make him a sniveling baby, like Ron seemed to be implying. All it meant was that Harry knew what was good for himself. “I would not cry.”

“Hermione, back me up.” Ron gently poked at his friend’s shoulder.

“Mrs. Potter has given us some good advice in the past.” Hermione said. “Plus, she’s given me a few tips here and there on how to navigate the school, being Muggleborn herself and all.”

“Don’t listen to anything she says about me.” Harry said quickly. As much as he loved his mother, she had a tendency to reveal the worst stories about him while supposedly talking him up. He’d nearly lost all his mates in Year Two when she told the “cute” story about him crying for her for hours on his first day of school, reminding them all when they’d only just forgotten. The news had spread throughout the school like wildfire, and Harry’d only barely made people forget before leaving, between his football skills and deflecting attention onto his younger siblings. “She’s lying. I can guarantee it.”

“Your mum doesn’t lie. I was there for half those stories.” Ron reminds him. “You can’t hide anything from your best mate.”

“If you really loved me, you’d keep your mouth shut.” Harry said, sticking out his tongue.

Dumbledore began speaking before Ron could retort, so he settled for sticking his own tongue out as well. “As you are no doubt aware, your fellow students have arrived. The students from Beauxbatons have been placed at the Ravenclaw table, and the Durmstrang students at the Slytherin table.” Dumbledore swept his arm out, waiting for the smattering of applause to die down before beginning again. “This is a momentous occasion in the history of our school, and in the history of the wizarding world, I’m quite sure. You are all aware of the Tournament and the three champions that will be selected. Not by me, I assure you. But rather by an impartial judge… the Goblet of Fire.”

His words were punctuated by the unveiling of a rather ordinary cup-- or, rather, it would have been ordinary if it weren’t filled to the brim with blue flames.

“A sentient cup.” Harry said, slipping a hand under his glasses to rub at his eyes as Hermione stared at Dumbledore in surprise. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Anybody who wishes to participate in the Tournament need only write their name on a slip of parchment and drop it into the Goblet.” Dumbledore spoke over the excited whispers. “You have until the evening of the thirty-first. The cup shall choose those most worthy, one from each school, on Halloween. Until then, it shall be freely accessible in the entrance hall.” He paused here, before resuming. “Or rather, freely accessible to those of age. I shall be drawing an age line around it myself, ensuring that no one under the age of seventeen can submit their name.”

“The thirty-first, huh?” Harry said, frowning. “Halloween’s an awful day for me, historically.”

“Hopefully you won’t get picked for the tournament, then.” Ron snorted. “Talk about bad luck, right?”

“I’ve always had horrid luck on Halloween.” Harry said morosely. “There was the whole house invasion thing when I was one, then first year, there was a troll. Then second year, the basilisk started petrifying everyone. Then third year, Pettigrew broke in. It’s only been escalating, so getting chucked into the tournament sounds about right for this year. Sounds like a right headache, if you ask me.”

“Maybe we should lock ourselves in a broom cupboard until it’s over.” Ron suggested. “That way there’s no chance we’ll get in trouble.”

“Brilliant. You pick a nice one, I’ll bring the food, and Hermione’ll keep us caught up on school.” Harry said. “It’s a plan.”

“Deal.” Ron reached out for a high-five, which Harry gladly gave. “Let’s hope it works.”

* * *

 

The next two weeks flew by, and Harry was so deeply buried in school work that he hardly noticed the pumpkins piling up in the corners of the Great Hall in the week preceding. But it took less than ten seconds to know what day it was, upon waking on the morning of the thirty-first. Halloween had been a difficult day for his family, for obvious reasons, for many years now, and it always seemed to come with an annoyingly introspective mood, in Harry’s case.

Halloween hadn’t been as bad his first two years at Hogwarts-- he hadn’t known enough about what happened to be properly upset, so he’d continued on as normal, maybe a little more somberly than usual. He had enjoyed the feasts, although maybe not the aftermath, and had generally been able to bounce back some as November began.

But the memory of hearing his mother’s scream, pulled to the forefront of his mind by the dementors last year and then left there to stew, seemed to have sparked some strange sense of lethargy in him as Halloween approached. Despite his best efforts to distract himself with friends or school work, the screams kept replaying in his head, like a soundtrack to the rest of his life, keeping him up at nights and suddenly catching his attention during the day. There would be no way he’d enjoy the feast this year or any year after, not when he knew just what Halloween had been for his parents, now.

Perhaps this was what growing up was like, Harry thought, scrubbing a hand across his eyes before kicking the covers back and swinging his legs off the bed and onto the floor of his dormitory. Maybe it just meant eternally trudging forward, the memories of those you care about weighing heavily on your shoulders.

Dark thoughts for a dark morning, Harry thought, smirking slightly as he tugged on his trousers.

“You alright, mate?” Ron asked from where he was pulling on an ink-stained jumper. “You look a little green around the gills.”

“Just tired, I suppose.” Harry said sleepily, shrugging as he pulled on his shirt, doing up the buttons before pulling the collar up. “Haven’t slept well, lately.”

“That isn’t good.” His friend frowned, tugging on his robe as he stepped over. “School’s hard enough without you driving yourself into the ground. Anything I can do?”

“It’s alright.” Harry shrugged again, pulling his already tied tie over his head and tightening it before turning down his collar and tugging on his sweater. “Let’s get to breakfast, shall we? Full day of school ahead, and we’ve got to stay nourished to be attentive. Or something like that.”

Breakfast, unfortunately, did not have the effect Harry intended, and the rest of the day passed in a blur, Harry getting sucked into spirals of obsessive recollection of the past year that Ron and Hermione often barely managed to pull him out of. It was nearly time for dinner, and the ensuing champion announcements, before Harry even noticed the school day was over.

“I hope at least one of the champions is a girl.” Hermione said, as they walked to the Great Hall. “I looked through the lists of previous champions, and it seems to be just boys, mostly.”

“Whoever she is, I hope she wins.” Harry agreed, smiling weakly. He wanted nothing more than to climb in bed and just sleep the rest of the day away, but he’d hardly eaten anything at lunch and there was no way he’d even have a chance at sleeping through the night on an empty stomach. “That’ll show everyone.”

“Won’t be Fred or George, though. That’s probably a good thing.” Ron mused, head tilted back as he stared at the ceiling.

“That was a mess.” Harry said, shaking his head. Fred and George had tried to go over the Age Line drawn around the Goblet a few days before after taking an Aging Potion of their own making, and the result had been hilarious-- both George and Fred had grown beards to rival Dumbledore’s, and had aged rapidly until Harry could’ve sworn they were at least ninety. Watching them hobble off to the hospital wing, arms around each other’s shoulders while they loudly compared the length of their beards, was more of a laugh than he’d been expecting. “I’m glad they got back to normal, at least.”

“I told them an Age Line, especially one drawn by Dumbledore, wouldn’t get fooled by something so trivial as an Aging Potion.” Hermione said, a note of irritation creeping into her voice. And it was true-- she had warned them, it was just that, somehow, after four years of being around Fred and George, Hermione had not yet figured out that they rarely listened to anyone other than each other. “Especially an Aging Potion made by students.”

“Hermione, even though everyone else has figured out you’re usually right about these things, Fred and George barely even listen to themselves. Let alone their kid brother’s friend.” Ron snorted. “I think Lee’s the only one who can talk sense into them, and most of the time he’d rather be in on the trick.”

“Well, there’s something else to worry about.” Harry spoke up, as they entered the Great Hall. The Goblet of Fire was filled with the same blue flames it had been for the past two weeks, but it had been placed in the front of the room, right in front of the teacher’s table. Harry scanned the table for his father’s face and came up empty-- he must have gone home, Harry thought wistfully, before shoving the thought away. “Ron, got a bad feeling about tonight?”

“No?” Ron frowned. “Why?”

Harry shrugged. “You’ve generally got a handle on these things. That’s all. Let’s sit down before all the good seats are taken.”

“You say this like we’re watching a play or something.” Hermione said, chuckling, nudging Harry with her elbow. Harry responded in kind after a second’s pause, and Hermione shot a concerned look at Ron as Harry sped up slightly to reach the table ahead of them.

Dinner passed without incident, although Harry, who was becoming more and more fond of the idea of just skipping out on this champion announcement and heading to bed now that he knew his father wasn’t around to make sure he stayed, was noticeably less chatty than usual. Ron and Hermione didn’t seem to be taking this new development well, even going as far as to look worried about him.

Dumbledore stood at the front of the hall, near the goblet. “When the champions’ names are called, I would ask them to come to the front of the hall, walk along the staff table, and then go through into the chamber beyond that door there.” He gestured to the side of the hall. “You’ll be receiving further instructions once the three champions have been selected.”

The headmaster waved his hands, and suddenly the candles that had been flickering along the wall were all extinguished. The Goblet was now burning more brightly than before, leaving the assembled students to watch it with bated breath.

The blue flames, which had previously been flickering innocently around the rim of the cup, suddenly turned a terrifying shade of red, climbing higher and higher until the cup spat out a slip of parchment, which soared into Dumbledore’s hands. The flames returned to the soft, shimmery blue they had been before, obviously awaiting the opportunity to announce the next champion.

“The champion for Durmstrang,” He read, “will be Viktor Krum.”

Viktor Krum walked up to Dumbledore, shaking hands with the headmaster briefly before being pointed toward a room just off the Hall, amidst roars of applause from the entire hall. Ron was cheering quite loudly, pausing only to whisper an “I knew it!” to his friends.

As soon as Viktor had stepped through the door he had been shown, the flames turned red a second time, spitting out a second piece of parchment.

“The champion for Beauxbatons… Fleur Delacour!” Dumbledore announced.

A girl with a sheet of silvery blonde hair stood from the Ravenclaw table, gracefully sweeping to the front of the room and through the door.

The Beauxbatons girls began cheering loudly enough to drown out a good portion of the other schools’ applause. Several jumped to their feet, obviously delighted with the Goblet’s choice.

“Hogwarts is next!” Ron said excitedly.

The flames flared red one last time, spitting out one final piece of parchment, which floated into Dumbledore’s hands.

“And the champion for Hogwarts is… Cedric Diggory!” Dumbledore announced.

There was a tremendous roar of applause from the Hufflepuff table, and the other houses joined in slowly afterward. Harry, if pressed, would have said that most of them had no idea who Cedric Diggory was. Harry knew him from Quidditch-- Cedric had apologized quite a bit after the match against Hufflepuff that had broken Harry’s broom last year. He seemed like a decent sort, so Harry figured he’d make an alright champion.

Cedric strode proudly up to Dumbledore, shaking his hand with a grin on his face, before walking off to the room that the other champions were in.

“Our three champions have been decided!” Dumbledore held his arms wide before allowing them to drop. “You are all welcome to return to your dormitories for the night. Your champions will be returned to you after their debriefing.” He gave them all a warm smile, eyes twinkling as he turned to disappear through the same door as the other students.

“This is usually the part when something happens.” Harry said, staring at the goblet with a look of resignation on his face. Surprisingly, even after a minute and a half of dedicated staring, the goblet remained as it was, blue flames flickering about the rim. “Alright, it’s time for bed.” The smile had returned to Harry’s face, although it was still quite tentative, and, to everyone around Harry, it looked as if a load had been lifted off his shoulders when he stood up.

“Huh… A Halloween where nothing happens.” Ron said. “Maybe you were right about my feelings.”

“There’s only one way to explain it.” Hermione said solemnly, as they left the Great Hall, on their way back up to Gryffindor Tower.

“What?” Harry asked.

“An alternate universe.” Hermione said, nodding seriously.


	6. Densaugeo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape waved his hand, effectively cutting Harry’s plea short. His eyes narrowed as he noticed Hermione’s front teeth, which had now grown almost to her collarbones. 
> 
> “I see no difference.” He said coldly, and the tears Hermione had valiantly been trying to hold in began to fall as she turned away from Snape and the students that were beginning to gather around the door to the Potions classroom, pointing and laughing at her now that the professor had implicitly excused and encouraged it.
> 
> “You’re disgusting.” Harry said venomously, glaring in Snape’s direction. “You’re disgusting and horrid, and if you need to bully fourteen year old girls to feel good about yourself, then you’re not the type of person who should be around children at all!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys get a real treat this week-- early update! :) 
> 
> I've an exam later today, and it would've bothered me the whole time that I hadn't updated yet, so here's your chapter for this week! It's a little shorter than the rest of the ones this book, but that's mostly because the material we wanted to get across in this chapter is really important and deserves the same focus anyone would give a larger chapter. We've worked really hard on it, and hope it has the effect we've tried to make it have.
> 
> On that note, warning for appearance based bullying of a student by a teacher, and Snape being his usual douchebag self.
> 
> Hope you all have an excellent Friday and next week, and we'll see you next Friday! 
> 
> -S&L

The tournament and news of it, both true and false, consumed the halls of Hogwarts as soon as the champions had been selected, and honestly, Harry was quite sick of it. He didn’t want to know what Fleur Delacour was wearing, or where Viktor Krum had been last, or what anyone thought about Cedric Diggory-- they’d do what they did in the tasks, and that would be entertainment enough. There was no need to air all of their business to the world beforehand, just to get some kicks out of potentially embarrassing them. They would be stressed enough, what with the first task coming up soon-- they didn’t need all sorts of rumors floating around to make things worse.

In fact, Harry was so bored with this constant speculation that he was actually looking forward to Potions, for once in his long, Potions hating academic career at Hogwarts. At least Snape would make them shut up for the length of the class, even if they’d go back to talking about it right as soon as he dismissed them. Even the possibility of agreeing with Snape’s methods was disquieting enough, and Harry grimaced at the thought. He’d never sink that low.

“I understand that you think that freeing them isn’t a reasonable plan, Ron, but it’s the only way they’ll be in a position where they can argue their rights.” Hermione said. She and Ron were, once again, deeply entrenched in a debate about how SPEW should be run. Harry didn’t like either of their methods, but he didn’t have any alternate plans himself, so he decided keeping quiet rather than incurring either of their wraths was the infinitely safer solution. “If they’re still bound to the family or institution they serve, then there wouldn’t be any reason for people to listen to them. And none of the people in power are going to seriously listen to what the house elves have to say if they’re not forced to. It’d be easy enough to just leave clothes lying around. The elves would have to pick them up, and then they’d be free.”

“But you won’t be able to free them, Hermione.” Ron groaned. “I told you, house elves can only be freed by getting clothes from their owners. Harry helping Dobby was a fluke! You’re better off talking to some of the house elves that work in the kitchens, since they don’t have owners. Not that you’d know, since you haven’t even talked to any yet.”

“That’s only because I don’t know where the kitchen is.” Hermione said, sounding quite affronted. “If I had any idea, I’d be there.”

“What? It doesn’t tell you in Hogwarts, A History?” Ron teased. “You’ve only read it a million times.”

“Alright, alright, no fighting.” Harry said, waving a hand between them. “We’ve got Potions in a couple minutes, and we’ve got to present a united front for that, or Snape’ll pick us apart easy.”

“He’s good at it whether we’re together or apart.” Ron said dryly.

Harry nodded, because Ron did have a point. No matter how hard they tried to keep Snape from getting to them, he always seemed to find new ways. He’d asked Uncle Sirius about possible Snape shutdown tactics, over the summer, and all Uncle Sirius had to offer was “pull down his trousers in public”, which seemed awfully more dangerous for Harry to do than it would’ve been for Uncle Sirius twenty years ago, and “talk to your mother”. Harry, for once, had decided not to consult his mother on the issue, deciding that her solutions were likely going to be much more terrifying than he was ready to hear.

“Planning is useless, but we should at least try.” Harry said, looking to Hermione for approval. She nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable with the implication that planning wasn’t worth the trouble, and Harry beamed.

“Hermione’s the know-it-all.” Ron said with a shrug. “I’ll do what she says.”

“Ron, that’s rude.” Harry pointed out. “Hermione’s just trying to figure things out, same as you are. She’s just going about it her way, and you’re doing it yours, so you get mixed up along the way.”

“That’s awfully diplomatic of you, Harry.” Hermione said, looking surprised.

“You’re right.” Harry said, nodding resolutely. It was awfully diplomatic-- it was the same answer he used whenever his siblings came to him with fights. Obviously, after years of fine tuning, it would toe the line perfectly without committing securely to either side. It worked wonders with Sarah and Anne-- just mature enough for Sarah to relate to and relatable enough to keep Anne from keeping the fight alive. “Who’s ready for a good, fun party in the dungeons?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Ron sighed.

“No one’s ever ready.” Harry said glumly, before pointing toward the portrait hole. “Onward.”

The trio trooped toward the portrait hole and, once they’d gotten through it, continued on down the stairs toward the dungeons, all looking equally resigned to the fight that was more than likely to come. Their first mistake was in assuming that there would only be one fight, and their second was assuming that Snape would be the first. As usual, a familiar roadblock arose in their plans as they approached the Potions classroom, and the roadblock’s name was Draco Malfoy.

“I’m surprised you haven’t managed to wreck the tournament already, Potter.” He sneered gleefully. “Only you’d be able to ruin something before it began.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d guess that you’re happy about the tournament so you don’t have to play Quidditch this year.” Harry shrugged nonchalantly, looking to Ron to back him up. “You can only hide a lack of talent with money for so long.”

“How dare you!” Draco seethed. Harry was glad to see the smile off Draco’s face-- seeing as he delighted in little other than the misfortune of others, Draco being angry was usually a good sign for the rest of Hogwarts.

“Going to run to daddy, Malfoy?” Ron taunted.

“He’s not worth it.” Hermione said coldly, looking past Malfoy as if he didn’t exist at all. “We’ll be late to Potions if we let him take up any more of our time, and I don’t think any of us want a detention because we humored Malfoy for too long.”

Draco whipped out his wand, his normally pale skin flushing with indignation. “Watch what you say, mudblood!” He spat. “Densaugeo!”

Hermione slapped a hand over her mouth, tears springing to her eyes as she looked between Ron and Harry in mild panic. Harry wanted nothing more than to throttle Draco, between the hex he’d cast and what he’d called Hermione, but his friend needed him right now. Revenge could wait.

Harry immediately took her aside, shooting a murderous glare at Malfoy. “Are you alright?”

Hermione’s front teeth had grown past what her hands could hide, by the time Harry asked his question, and he winced, squeezing her shoulder. “Should we go up to the hospital wing?” Harry asked softly, not wanting to draw attention to her predicament. Hermione seemed thankful for that, nodding just barely.

Ron let out a bellow of anger, forgoing his wand in favor of throwing himself at Malfoy. The two tumbled to the ground, Draco squawking in surprise and anger.

Snape appeared, most likely due to the noise, and glanced between his students. A flick of his wand had Draco and Ron wrenched apart, despite Ron’s best effort to continue pummeling the Slytherin. “What’s going on here?”

“Professor, you’ve got to help Hermione.” Harry said, even as his friend tried to hide the damage done to her by Draco’s hex. “Malfoy hexed her, and her teeth are growing, and--”

Snape waved his hand, effectively cutting Harry’s plea short. His eyes narrowed as he noticed Hermione’s front teeth, which had now grown almost to her collarbones.

“I see no difference.” He said coldly, and the tears Hermione had valiantly been trying to hold in began to fall as she turned away from Snape and the students that were beginning to gather around the door to the Potions classroom, pointing and laughing at her now that the professor had implicitly excused and encouraged it.

“You’re disgusting.” Harry said venomously, glaring in Snape’s direction. “You’re disgusting and horrid, and if you need to bully fourteen year old girls to feel good about yourself, then you’re not the type of person who should be around children at all!”

“A detention for you, Mr. Potter. And Mr. Weasley as well. Fifty points from Gryffindor for your backtalk.” He answered silkily.

“Give me as many detentions as you want.” Harry said, seething before tapping Hermione’s shoulder, motioning for her to follow him down the hallway. “Let’s get you up to Madam Pomfrey, Hermione. She’ll have you all fixed up before you know it.”

Ron glared at Snape before joining his friends, throwing an arm around her shoulders as the trio moved down the hall. “Just you wait, ‘Mione. I’ll kick his pasty arse as soon as he doesn’t have Snape to protect him.” He assured her.

“Thank you.” She said, once they were far enough down the hallway that Snape wouldn’t hear them.

“It’s what friends do.” Harry said, as they made their way up the stairs. “We’ve got your back.”

“And a million more reasons to fight Snape.” Ron added.

“You’re not in pain at all, or anything?” Harry asked, concerned, and Hermione shook her head. “Right, good. I was worried, is all.”

“It’s mostly just surprise, I promise.” Hermione said, looking torn between wiping the tears off her face and hiding the extent to which her teeth had grown, and Harry, upon noticing, pulled the sleeve of his robe over his hand before wiping her face for her. “I-- I didn’t think he’d do that.”

“That’s got to be enough to get him fired.” Harry said, trying to look as cheerful as possible in the hopes that it would be contagious. “You’ll be a legend, Hermione. The one who finally liberated Hogwarts from Snape’s greasy, iron fisted rule. A true hero to us all.”

“Stop it.” Hermione said, still sounding quite upset, but there was a hint of a laugh in her voice, and that was enough. Cheering Hermione up was remarkably similar to cheering up Sarah, Harry thought to himself-- once you got that first laugh out, everything else was easy. It was just getting there that was the tough part.

“We’ll host a party, once they finally get rid of him.” Harry said, grinning at Hermione and Ron. “Streamers, hats, noisemakers, the works. It’ll be the best party ever. Cake and everything.”

“I’m holding you to that.” Ron warned.

“Trust me, my entire family’s ready and waiting.” Harry said, as they finally reached the Hospital Wing. “Madam Pomfrey!” He called out, running over to the matron. “Hermione needs your help!”

“Not you?” Madame Pomfrey seemed incredibly surprised that Harry wasn’t injured.

“Malfoy hexed her!” Ron said, steering Hermione to sit on one of the beds. “Made her teeth get bigger, and then Snape said there wasn’t anything wrong with them and gave us detention.”

“Can you move your hands, dear?” Madame Pomfrey asked gently. “I need to see the damage.”

Hermione carefully drew her hands away from her mouth, and Harry instantly grabbed one of her hands in his, squeezing it tight. She smiled just barely, and Harry was glad that he could offer her any comfort. And, just as Harry had promised, Madam Pomfrey set her teeth to rights within minutes of seeing them.

“Just like I said.” Harry said, squeezing Hermione’s hand again. “Everything’s back to normal now. And we can skip Potions. Not that what you had to go through was worth it or anything, ‘cause I’d much rather go to Potions than see you get hurt again. Ever.”

“I got what you were going for.” Hermione said, nodding.

“I’d say we can hex Snape into a big greaseball, or we could turn Draco into a ferret, but with those two? You really wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.” Ron said, patting Hermione’s shoulder. “You look great.”

“Thanks, Ron.” She said, trying for a smile. “It means a lot. What you two did.”

“Punching Draco? I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” Ron assured.

* * *

 

“I know something you don’t know.” Ron sang happily, a piece of parchment clutched in one hand.

“It’s not like you can keep it from us too long, anyway. You can’t keep a secret to save your life.” Harry said jovially, as Ron squeezed in beside him in the armchair Harry was sitting in, obviously trying to force him out of his seat. Harry fought hard and well, but as usual, ended up falling hard onto the carpet. Thankfully, it was soft, so he simply pulled a face before springing back up, trying to find a way to get back in the chair before giving up and sitting on the floor beside Hermione’s chair.

Hermione ruffled Harry’s hair, bringing a smile to his face. “I’d say I wasn’t curious”, she said, tapping the end of her quill against her cheek before going back to writing, “but I am.”

“Oh, this is big stuff. Even you’d be interested, Hermione.” Ron said with a smug grin. “Very important.”

“Oh, come on!” Harry whined. “We want to know! And you’ve gone and gotten us interested too! Hermione, make him tell us!”

“Ron, come on.” Hermione cajoled, putting her parchment aside to turn toward Ron. “You have to tell us.”

Ron let out a dramatic sigh, sinking into the chair. “Oh, alright, alright.” He said. “I’ll spill.”

Harry and Hermione waited with bated breath for what they assumed was something of epic proportions, and then Ron spoke.

“Charlie is coming to visit!”

“How’s that something important?” Harry groused, pulling a face. “Percy’s already been around, so Charlie’s next. We’ll see Bill later, probably.”

“Harry’s right.” Hermione agreed. “I don’t see why you played this up so much.”

“He’s coming right before the first task.” Ron said. “Don’t you get it? We know what the first task is!”

“No, we don’t.” Harry said grumpily. “All we know is that Charlie’s coming to visit.”

“It’s dragons, isn’t it?” Hermione whispered to Ron as he rolled his eyes at Harry. “Dragons. Up close. That could be horrifically dangerous. No wonder the tournament got banned!”

“Right? It’s awesome!” Ron grinned. “The only dragon we’ve seen up close was Norbert!”

“Amazing.” Harry said dryly. “Dragons, likely multiple if Charlie’s bringing a couple mates along, on campus at the same time as me. I’ll likely get eaten or something. Malfoy’ll be thrilled.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. You’d have to get real close to get eaten.” Ron laughed. “Lucky you aren’t a champion, right?”

“That’s assuming the dragon cooperates.” Harry said solemnly, and Ron suddenly looked a lot less confident. “This is going to be a great year.”


	7. The Forbidden Forest, Charlie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “These are our little ones.” Charlie said, pointing to each of the cages in turn. “That’s the Swedish Short-Snout. We call him Barry, mostly ‘cause he looks like he’d be a Barry. Then there’s the Common Welsh Green. She’s named Green Bean, mostly because no one really thought of anything else. The third one’s the Chinese Fireball. And the last, that’s the Hungarian Horntail. You’ll likely be seeing Barry, Green Bean and the Fireball in the First Task. We don’t like to let the Horntail out unless we have to.”
> 
> “Why not?” Harry asked, unsure if he wanted an answer.
> 
> “He’s got an unfortunate habit of trying to eat people.” Charlie said casually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the dragons! Next week's going to be a real fun chapter, so I hope you're just as pumped for the First Task as we are! Stay tuned for fun crowd antics and Three Whole Dragons. In the mean time, have Four Whole Dragons, Charlie Weasley, and an adventure into the Forbidden Forest.
> 
> Thanks for sticking around, and we'll see you back here next Friday. Don't forget to leave us a comment or two! 
> 
> -S&L

“Alright, so Charlie says we can meet him out by the Forbidden Forest, and he’ll take us to see the dragons.” Ron, Harry and Hermione were gathered in the common room, dressed in regular clothes despite the late hour. Everyone else was fast asleep in the dormitories upstairs, as the trio should’ve been themselves, but they had far more exciting things to attend to. Ron whispered excitedly to his friends, though whether he was more enthusiastic about the dragons or seeing his older brother for the first time in months was hard to tell.

“What are we waiting for, then?” Harry asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement. His hesitancy to see the dragons, for fear of danger, was lurking somewhere in the back of his mind, but had thankfully been eclipsed, momentarily, by the wonder of possibly getting to see a dragon up close and personal.

“That’d be us.” A new voice said, from behind them. The trio turned around to find the twins standing by the stairs, Lee Jordan at George’s side. “Are we late?”

“We still have to wait for Ginny.” Ron reminded his brothers, looking toward the girls’ dormitory stairs. Ginny still remained stubbornly absent, despite his staring, and Ron frowned in annoyance.

“How many of us are going?” Hermione asked, frowning. “Are you sure this is allowed?”

Ron shrugged helplessly. “Charlie lives in Romania.” He said. “We can’t really afford to visit him, and he’s too busy to come back here all the time. We haven’t seen him in ages.”

“And Ginny’d throw a right fit if we went to see the dragons without her.” George said.

“You haven’t seen Ginny throw a fit.” Harry said, shuddering. “When she wants something, she’s terrifying.”

“I’m always terrifying, Harry.” Ginny said as she came into view, skipping the last step on her way down into the common room. “Is this everyone?”

“Should be.” Ron said.

“Are you sure Charlie’s alright with this large a group coming?” Hermione asked again. “The fact that he’s your brother aside, isn’t this a huge safety risk?”

“Yeah.” Harry said, nodding cheerfully. “That’s half the reason we’re doing it.”

“I feel like I’ve run through the list of dangerous shit we’ve done in the past three years often enough.” Ron grinned. “Nothing is going to happen- trust me!”

“And if you can’t trust Ron...” George started.

“Trust us!” Fred finished.

“I don’t think that’s going to reassure anyone, guys.” Lee snickered.

“Not me, at least.” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

“It’s alright, Hermione.” Harry said. “If anyone dies, it’s guaranteed to be me!”

“That’s not comforting in the slightest, Harry, but thank you.” Hermione said, ruffling Harry’s hair.

“Charlie is a professional.” Ginny reminded Hermione. “He’s probably the only responsible brother I have, besides Percy. He won’t let anything happen.”

“Charlie’s wonderful.” Harry said, trying to stifle a laugh. “One time, he said he was going to teach Ron how to climb a tree, and we all ran away, Charlie included, once he’d gotten Ron up to the top. Ron didn’t know how to get back down.”

“I forgot about that.” Ron frowned. “You all suck. I was up there for an hour until mum heard me crying.”

“Ah, the good old days.” George sighed dreamily.

“Everything I’ve heard about your childhoods seems to have ended terribly for Ron.” Hermione said. “Is that a pattern?”

“You’ve been our friend for three years now, Hermione. Is it?” Harry asked, grinning. He could count on Hermione to say yes, seeing as it had been the truth-- first year, Ron had gotten a nasty concussion falling off the horse during the chess game, second year, he’d gotten banged up on the way down to the Chamber, and last year had been, thankfully, a bit of a break for them all.

“A bit.” She said, nodding thoughtfully. “Quite a bit.”

“I need new friends.” Ron groaned.

“And new siblings.” Ginny said. “Good luck with that one.”

“Cheer up, mate.” Harry said, patting Ron’s back. “If the dragons eat you, you’ll never suffer again.”

“I really need new friends.” Ron rolled his eyes fondly. “Anyways, dragons?”

“Dragons!” Harry said enthusiastically.

“Fred, George. I’m gonna need you to hold Charlie back. I want to touch a dragon.” Ginny said seriously.

“Don’t touch the dragon.” Harry said hurriedly, although he was entirely sure Ginny wouldn’t listen to him anyway. “That’s not safe.”

“I’m a dangerous woman, Potter.” She said, expression serious despite the humor shining in her eyes.

“Won’t be nearly so dangerous once a dragon’s bitten off a couple of your fingers.” Harry said, trying to keep from laughing.

“I’ll bludgeon you with my stump.” She threatened jovially.

“Ah, young love.” George threw his arms around Fred and Lee’s shoulders.

“Young love?” Harry said, grimacing. He did like spending time with Ginny, and they were good friends, but that didn’t mean that either of them had feelings for each other. George was more likely to find love with his own toes than Harry was to like Ginny like that. “Cut it out.”

“They need time, George.” Fred said, shaking his head melodramatically. “They don’t know the truth, yet.”

“What truth?” Harry asked, looking confused. He hadn’t found any reason to go on about girls the way Ron had since this summer, and neither Dean nor Seamus was up for any conversation on that topic, considering all they ever talked about was each other. A thought occurred to Harry suddenly-- he could talk to Neville. Neville would understand. He didn’t seem particularly interested in the topic either.

“I would rather lick Percy’s left foot than date Harry.” Ginny pretended to gag.

“That’s ri-- That’s mean. Right, but mean.” Harry said, frowning. He wouldn’t lick Percy’s left foot for any reason, but if Ginny thought that was a viable option, that was her opinion, albeit a horrible one.

“Alas, today’s youth is lost.” George straightened, headed towards the exit. “I’m going with or without you guys.”

“With!” Ron scrambled after his brother with a laugh. “Harass your own friend, mate.”

“At this rate, we’ll never see the dragons.” Hermione said, shaking her head. “Come on, Harry, Ginny. Let’s go.”

“Percy’s left foot?” Harry muttered, grimacing. “Yuck.”

“Arguably worse than his right foot.” George agreed.

“There are two hundred and fifty-thousand sweat glands in a foot.” Hermione said, matter-of-factly.

“Gross.” Ginny groaned, lowering her voice as they hurried through the deserted halls.

“This’d be so much easier if we were invisible.” Ron grumbled. “Wouldn’t have to worry about getting caught.”

“Yeah, well.” Harry shrugged, hurrying along beside his friends. He kept his head down, hoping that they wouldn’t run into Mrs. Norris-- he didn’t need a run in with Filch on top of everything else. “None of us have an Invisibility Cloak lying around anywhere, so that’s going to be a tough order to fill.”

“We’ve looked into it.” George shrugged. “They’re too far outside our expertise.”

“What expertise?” Ginny smiled at the twins, her footsteps soft against the carpet of the hall. “Tricks and pranks?”

“Lies and slander?” Harry suggested, grinning.

“Trouble and terror!” Ron laughed.

“Blatant exaggeration?” Hermione chimed in.

“Being idiots?” Lee’s voice came from around the corner ahead.

“Our reputation precedes us, Fred.” George grinned wolfishly.

“When doesn’t it?” Harry muttered.

The small group of students managed to slip out of the castle and across the grounds without incident. The cold breeze washed over them the moment they set foot on the grass, causing them to hasten towards the forest.

A familiar redheaded man waved at them, as they reached the edge of the forest. “Ron! Fred! George! Ginny!”

The Weasleys all picked up the pace, practically charging across the grounds to reach their brother. “Charlie!” Ron shouted.

“Hey!” Charlie said jovially. “How’ve you kids been!”

Harry, Hermione and Lee watched as Charlie’s younger siblings practically tackled him. He stumbled back with a grin. “Great!” Ginny said, her face hidden from view behind Charlie’s arm.

“I’m glad! Ready to see some dragons?” He asked, grinning at Harry, Hermione and Lee.

“You bet.” Lee shot him a thumbs up.

“How many did you bring?” George asked.

“How’d you get them here without anyone noticing?” Ron asked.

“How likely is it that they’ll eat one of the champions?” Ginny piped up.

“Not very.” Charlie said, looking very unconvinced. “We’ve trained them well.”

“Can you train them to eat the champions?” Ginny asked seriously. “Asking for a friend.”

“That’s illegal, Ginny.” Charlie said, looking thoughtful. “But we could, if we wanted to. It wouldn’t be that hard.”

Ginny gave the twins a meaningful look, and received identical nods in response.

“Let’s get going.” Ron pulled back from his brother, grinning at him. “I’m almost as tall as you, now!”

“Shut up, Ronniekins.” Charlie muttered, shoving Ron lightly. Ron was right, mostly due to the fact that Charlie, like their mother, wasn’t very tall. However, he more than made up for his height with muscle, leaving him short, but quite broad.

Ron stuck his tongue out, racing ahead as Charlie began walking. “Are you keeping them in the Forbidden Forest?”

“Wouldn’t that be a problem, considering all the other animals in the forest?” Hermione asked, frowning.

“They’re well secured, don’t worry!” Charlie said cheerily. “We’ve got it all under control.”

“How many did you bring?” George repeated. “One for each champion, right?”

“Plus an extra.” Charlie said. “They told us to bring one extra, just in case a dragon wasn’t feeling well the day of, or was upset. We would’ve anyway, it’s protocol.”

“There’s protocol for dragon fights?” Hermione asked.

“There’s protocol for everything, kid.” Charlie said seriously. They rounded the lake, and began their trek into the Forbidden Forest. As they got further and further in, the sounds of a commotion got louder and louder. Charlie seemed even more energized, which lead Harry to believe that the source of the shouting was likely his companions. And, when a column of flame shot through the trees a few meters away from them, that belief was confirmed.

“Hey, Charlie’s back!” One of the other dragonologists called out. “And he’s brought the dragon feed, excellent!”

“Looks like you’re up, Ron.” Fred snickered, causing Ron to shove at him.

“Ha-ha, very funny.” He snorted.

“These are our little ones.” Charlie said, pointing to each of the cages in turn. “That’s the Swedish Short-Snout. We call him Barry, mostly ‘cause he looks like he’d be a Barry. Then there’s the Common Welsh Green. She’s named Green Bean, mostly because no one really thought of anything else. The third one’s the Chinese Fireball. And the last, that’s the Hungarian Horntail. You’ll likely be seeing Barry, Green Bean and the Fireball in the First Task. We don’t like to let the Horntail out unless we have to.”

“Why not?” Harry asked, unsure if he wanted an answer.

“He’s got an unfortunate habit of trying to eat people.” Charlie said casually.

“That would be a good reason to keep him restrained.” Hermione said, nodding calmly. Harry had no idea how she didn’t consider that reason to freak out, but good for Hermione.

“How do you handle him?” Lee asked, whistling appreciatively as the Horntail let out an earth-shaking growl.

“He has a deep appreciation for bedtime stories. It’s about his bedtime now, that’s why he’s acting out.” Charlie said, smiling fondly at the dragon as if it were just a particularly rowdy toddler. “Poor guy just wants some attention, and everyone’s focusing on the other ones. He’s a bit of a diva as well, which makes things a little rougher.”

“So he’s Harry?” Ron asked.

“Excuse me?” Harry said, taken aback by his friend’s betrayal. “I’m not like that.”

“Ron has a point.” Hermione said, nodding thoughtfully. Harry scowled. “You do like attention.”

“I need new friends.” Harry groaned, scowling at Ron and Hermione.

“When he was little, he used to cry if his parents paid too much attention to Sarah and the triplets.” Ron told Hermione.

“Okay, but they always paid more attention to them.” Harry said, crossing his arms. “It’s not fair!”

“They were babies.” Hermione said. “Logically, they required more time and effort.”

“Yeah, but still.” Harry grumbled.

“So are the champions going to have to kill the dragons?” Lee asked. One of the creatures let loose a plume of fire, and the shadows dancing across his cheekbones looked positively frightening.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Fred laughed along with the rest of his siblings. “I think Charlie would rather take Snape on a date than let one of his children get hurt.”

“Who’d want to date Snape?” Charlie said, shuddering.

“Snape thinks my mum does.” Harry spoke up, pulling a face.

“Your mum actually has taste, though.” Lee groaned. “Your dad is cool, and a looker too. Snape is… blegh.” He stuck his tongue out to illustrate his point.

“He’s also my dad.” Harry said, pretending to throw up. His father? Attractive? Lee must’ve had something extra in his pumpkin juice today. “Gross.”

“Think about it this way.” George said. “At least you have a chance at being hot in the future.”

“Then how come you tell me I’m ugly?” Ron placed his hands on his hips. “We’re brothers. Dad gave us the same genes, guys.”

“I love you all, but I’m never taking you anywhere again.” Charlie said, shaking his head. “Wow.”

“Yes you will.” Ginny smiled at her brother, knocking him with her elbow.

“Yeah, I will, but let me pretend for a second.” Charlie said fondly, ruffling Ginny’s hair.

“You can pretend when it’s just you and the dragons.” Fred cooed. “You’re stuck with us for at least an hour.”

“Believe me, I’m pretending.” Charlie said dryly, rolling his eyes.

“Betrayal.” Gasped George.

“Of the highest order!” Fred agreed.

“How long can we stay, anyways?” Ginny asked.

“As long as you want, but Harry, Hermione and Lee, at least, have got to leave at least half an hour before curfew. Dumbledore knows that the twins, Ron and Ginny are visiting with me, but I can’t have you three getting caught out here on my account.” Charlie said. “I’m not supposed to be showing off the dragons to you before the task, anyway. That’s supposed to be your first real look at them, but I figured, none of you are champions, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“No one tell the champions, then.” Lee shrugged. “Easy.”

“That means you, Ron.” Ginny grinned at her brother.

“I wasn’t gonna!” He protested angrily.

“You’re known for spreading secrets, mate.” Harry said, patting Ron on the back. “Better to accept it now than deny it forever.”

“I’m gonna keep denying it, cause it isn’t true!” Ron frowned.

“You’ve been getting us in trouble since you could talk.” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “I could start listing things, but we’d waste the time we have.”

“New friends.” Ron reiterated. “I need new friends.”

“We all do.” Harry said, shaking his head. “Anyway. Charlie. Dragons. Do you think Krum can take the nasty one?”

“I don’t think any of these kids can take the Horntail.” Charlie said, wincing. “He might have some trouble with Green Bean, though, if he gets her. She’s not very angry looking, but she might get nasty, if what I’ve heard the task’s going to be is true.”

“What did you hear?” Ron asked, leaning in expectantly.

“Can’t tell.” Charlie grinned, looking extraordinarily like Fred and George. “It’s classified.”

“Shut down!” George cackled, whacking his youngest brother rather hard on the shoulder. “No information for ickle Ronniekins.”

“Need something for that burn?” Ginny grinned. “I’m sure Charlie’s dragonologist friends have an antidote.”

“Some ice.” Ron decided. “And new siblings, too.”

“New everything.” Harry said cheerily. “A fresh start.”

“I suppose I could talk to Parvati and Lavender more, if you left me alone. I’d get more work done. That would be nice.” Hermione said, looking quite displeased with the thought. She’d spoken about it to Harry before, so he was well aware that the displeased expression was mostly due to the fact that she, Lavender and Parvati had no common interests whatsoever. He would have to talk to Parvati about being a little nicer to Hermione, though.

“Nah, you’re alright.” Ron threw an arm around Hermione’s shoulder, his hand practically disappearing in her mass of curly hair. “But we have to ditch Harry.”

“Ditch me?” Harry said, surprised. “Why?”

“It’s the only way.” Hermione said solemnly.

“It’s for the best, Harry.” Ron agreed, expression grave.

“I knew you never loved me.” Harry said, feigning sadness. “You were always better friends with each other than you were with me.”

“We’re madly in love and going to elope.” Ron said, his composure breaking with a quiet giggle. “Matt is going to be the best man.”

“We didn’t want to tell you because we didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” Hermione said, taking Harry’s hand. “But you’re not invited.”

“I can’t believe you two.” Harry muttered. “That’s it. I’m marrying Neville. He’ll be my best friend, forever.”

“Nope.” Ginny said gleefully. “Neville’s already my best friend.”

“Why don’t I ever get good things in life?” Harry whined. “I’m a good person.”

“Debatable.” Ginny shrugged.

“Eat slugs, Weasley.” Harry said, pulling a face.

“Remember when I made Malfoy do that?” Ron sighed dreamily. “Good times.”

“Good times.” Harry agreed, as Charlie squawked in surprise. “Ron cast eat slugs, and Malfoy was puking for hours. No one told you, Charlie?”

“Coulda sworn I mentioned it.” Ron grinned.

“I only regret that we weren’t there to watch.” Fred sighed.

“Must have been brilliant.” George agreed.

“It was.” Harry grinned. “I loved it.”

“I would’ve liked it if it under any other circumstances.” Hermione said, expression darkening for a second. Harry quickly shuffled over to her other side.

“Want me to do it again?” Ron asked seriously. “Just say the word and I’m there.”

“Please Hermione?” Harry asked. “I want to see him throw up slugs again.”

“The next time he gives you a reason, go for it.” Hermione shrugged. Harry cheered in joy, high fiving Ron.

“Does his face count as a reason?” Ron grinned.

“No, Ron.” Hermione shook her head. “He has to actively provoke you.”

“His face actively provokes me.” Ron said.

“A teacher won’t buy that.” Hermione said.

“My dad might!” Harry suggested.

“No he won’t.”

“He won’t.” Ginny agreed.

“Darn.” Harry said, looking quite disheartened. “I was hoping.”

“There are better things in life than revenge, Harry.” Charlie said, nodding solemnly. “Like dragons.”


	8. The First Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry laughed. “The task'll start soon enough-- it only be a couple minutes more.”
> 
> “Do you know what it is?” Dean asked, curious.
> 
> Harry sighed deeply, doing his best to look solemn. “A magician never tells his secrets.” 
> 
> “What?” Seamus frowned. “We’re all magicians. We’re wizards. We go to a school for wizards, where other wizards teach us magic secrets all day.”
> 
> “I really don’t know.” Harry shrugged. “It sounded cool.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the first task! The sun is shining, the dragons are dragoning, and the champions are championing-- the only matter to be resolved is who did best. You'll have to read the chapter to find that out!
> 
> Important notes:  
> 1) There will be a chapter next week-- Lai and I will do our best to get it written early on in the week so that you'll have something to read on Friday. We'll also be releasing the first chapter of a cool side project we've been working on on Wednesday (11/25), so that's something to look forward to!  
> 2) In terms of holiday breaks, we'll be taking December 25th and January 1st off to spend with our families, so there'll be a maximum of three chapters in December. We may take another week off, depending on school/exam schedules, but we'll (hopefully) be back to updates every Friday from January 8th on.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and we hope you've had a wonderful week!  
> -S&L

“We’re going to see an actual dragon fight today.” Harry said excitedly. No one else seemed to be quite as enthusiastic as him, probably because of the early hour. Harry had always been unbearably enthusiastic in the mornings, according to his parents, and he wasn’t planning to break the habit any time soon. “Not just one! Three whole dragon fights!”

Any response his friends might have given was interrupted when an arm was slung around Harry’s shoulder, an identical one dropping to rest on Ron’s head. George ruffled Harry’s hair gleefully while Fred tugged at Ron’s, Lee Jordan looking on fondly as the twins annoyed the two fourth years.

“Hey Freddie, did we remember to tell the little ones about the betting pool?” George asked.

“By golly, George, I don’t think we did!” Fred gasped.

“You’re betting on the survival of children.” Hermione grumbled, picking at her cereal. “That’s not only immoral, but probably illegal.”

“Immoral and probably illegal?” Fred looked to George, grinning wide.

“Right up our alley.” George said, laughing.

“Who are you betting on, then?” Ron managed to shove Fred’s arm from his head, rolling his eyes in exasperation. 

“We aren’t betting, just hosting the pool.” George shrugged. 

“Ron’s pretty sure Viktor’s going to win, isn’t he?” Harry said, nudging his friend in the ribs with his elbow. “Isn’t that right, Ronnie?”

“You betraying the proud name of Hogwarts, mate?” Ron shoved at his friend with a grin, nearly spilling his glass of orange juice. “I don’t even know who this Viktor bloke is!”

“Dirty liar.” Harry said fondly, nudging Ron again. “I’m not placing any bets today. We don’t know how the other schools’ champions are going to do things, nor do we know what Cedric knows.” Just as Hermione was about to commend him for his stance, Harry, as usual, ruined it. “The second task is fair game, though. By then, we should have a solid hold on everyone’s strengths.”

“Atta boy!” Fred said, ruffling Harry’s hair. Harry laughed, swatting at Fred’s arm. Hermione, if anything, looked even more disappointed. “Oh, come off it, Hermione. We’re just having a bit of fun.” 

“This is Hermione you’re talking about, Fred.” Harry said. “She doesn’t change her mind about any-- ow!” Harry pulled his legs up onto the bench, rubbing at his shin. “Hermione, that hurt!”

“As it should.” Hermione said, frowning. “The competition itself will be difficult enough for the champions without us betting on them and putting more pressure on everyone.”

“Does it really count as pressure if we don’t tell them?” George asked.

“We aren’t letting the champions bet- seems a bit odd, don’t you think?” Fred reached out to snag some of his little brother’s breakfast.

“Like anyone doesn’t know, from how loudly you’ve been announcing it.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “The damage is done now, anyway. Nothing you can do to fix it except not do it again next time.”

“You seem to be under the impression that we want to fix it.” George said, crossing his arms. “We’ve got a business to run, Hermione. In this economy, we’ve got to take all the help we can get.”

“You have met the twins, right?” Lee smiled at Hermione. “I don’t think telling them no is going to do anything.”

“I can still try.” Hermione said stubbornly.

“Alright, alright.” Harry said, waving his arms about to catch their attention. “The tasks’ due to start in half an hour, so let’s get going, shall we? Got to find the good seats.”

“And we’ve got to put in the last few bets.” George agreed, slapping Ron on the back. “See you down there!”

And with that the twins set off, George grabbing Lee’s arm to pull him along behind them.

“Let’s get going then!” Harry said brightly, before looking over to the Hufflepuff table. Neville’s usual seat was empty, but Harry spotted him getting dragged through the doors of the Great Hall by Ginny and Luna a few seconds later. Good, he was going to be sitting with someone. Harry had been worried. 

The trio set off out the doors of the Great Hall, and exited the castle, heading for the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where an arena had been set up. There were a few empty seats left in the middle of the stands, and Harry, Ron and Hermione eagerly claimed them. 

“Hey! Dean!” Harry exclaimed, noticing that Dean was sitting right beside them, brandishing a large banner. “What’s on that?”

“Everyone and their mum’s going for Krum, so I thought I’d give Diggory some support.” Dean said, shifting so they could see the words “Diggory for President” in yellow on the black banner. “Problem is, half these people don’t know what a president is.”

“Should’ve written Diggory for Minister.” Harry said. “Would’ve gotten the point to them better.”

“President has a better ring to it.” Dean said, and Harry nodded. Diggory for President really did sound better. And who actually wanted to be Minister anyway?

“Need any help holding it, mate?” Ron asked, leaning forward to look around Harry. 

“Seamus’ got the other end.” Dean said. “He’s just not doing a good job of holding it at the moment, which is why I’ve got both ends.”

“Unfair!” Seamus piped up, from Dean’s other side. “I’m doing an excellent job!”

“Then why aren’t you holding it?” Dean asked, and Seamus promptly shut up, carefully taking the other end of the banner from Dean, who smiled.

“Don’t pick fights with the wife, Finnegan.” Harry said, grinning. “Never ends well.”

“Yeah, like you’d know.” Seamus stuck his tongue out, moving to pick up his side of the banner again. “What d’you suppose the first trial will be?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” Harry laughed. “The task'll start soon enough-- it only be a couple minutes more.”

“Do you know what it is?” Dean asked, curious.

Harry sighed deeply, doing his best to look solemn. “A magician never tells his secrets.” 

“What?” Seamus frowned. “We’re all magicians. We’re wizards. We go to a school for wizards, where other wizards teach us magic secrets all day.”

“I really don’t know.” Harry shrugged. “It sounded cool.”

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Dumbledore’s voice echoed through the stadium. “The first trial of the Triwizard tournament is about to begin! Our champions have each been paired with a dragon, from whom they will attempt to take a single golden egg! They are allowed only their wands.”

The stands erupted into excited cheering, calming only when Dumbledore held up a hand. “Our first champion… Mr. Cedric Diggory, of Hogwarts!”

Cedric strode out of a fancy looking tent that had been pitched at the edge of the arena, and up to Dumbledore, shaking his hand genially. He seemed unaware of what he was about to face, still smiling as he looked around the arena, and Harry hoped, for his sake, that he’d gotten Green Bean.

Cedric’s smile was quickly wiped off his face seconds later, when he raised his wand, pointing it at the golden egg, which was sitting unattended in the middle of the arena. “Accio--”

Before he could finish the spell, Barry the Swedish Short Snout swooped down on him from nowhere, trying to break free of the chain keeping him rooted to the arena floor. Cedric backed up, obviously terrified, before trying to make his way around the arena to come at the dragon from behind, hoping that if he kept close to the fence, the dragon couldn’t reach him.

That assumption was also proved wrong when the dragon reared back before shooting a column of flame just centimeters away from him, close enough to singe the edges of Cedric’s robes.

“Come on Cedric!” Some of the Hufflepuffs called out, and Dean and Seamus stood up, waving their banner around wildly. Harry joined the chorus of voices, hoping that Cedric would take it as encouragement rather than getting scared further. 

“You can do it!” Harry yelled, wincing as another column of flames barely missed Cedric’s arm. “If he could give it another target, distract it, maybe, that would be a good idea. Would make things much safer.”

And, as if Cedric had heard Harry’s advice, he sidled up to one of the rocks in the arena, whispering a spell under his breath, and suddenly the rock was no longer a rock, but a little dog. Barry, seeing a potential food source, busied himself trying to roast the dog, while Cedric snatched the egg, running for the tent with it tucked under his arm. 

“One champion down.” Dumbledore announced. “Cedric has successfully obtained the egg. Next, we have Ms. Delacour of Beauxbatons!” 

Fleur exited the tent with her chin held high, blonde hair pulled back into a long ponytail. She seemed the perfect picture of calm, but her hands seemed to be shaking where they were clutching her wand. 

Charlie and the other dragonologists had released the second dragon- Green Bean- who was now growling over the small grouping of eggs. Fleur took a deep breath, staying as still as possible. 

“Does she think the dragon won’t attack if she doesn’t act like a threat?” Seamus whispered, eyebrows furrowing.

“Guess she figures dragons are like dinosaurs, and they won’t see you if you don’t move.” Harry whispered back.

“What the bloody hell is a dinosaur?” Ron mumbled.

Her wand came up slowly, gently moving in a figure-eight pattern as her lips formed some sort of enchantment. She repeated the words over and over, and the crowds in the stands watched with bated breath to see what was about to happen.

Green Bean, who had been watching Fleur with an obvious intent to attack, was now swaying from side to side, gaze glued to the movements of her wand. Slowly, she began to tip to the left. Harry watched with bated breath as she crashed to the ground, deep rumbling breaths escaping her.

Fleur wasted no time, vaulting over rocks and across the arena. She snatched up the egg, never pausing in her stride as she turned to sprint back towards the tent. Harry was quite sure she would have made it quickly, had Green Bean not let loose a loud snore. A jet of flame accompanied the snore, and Fleur only just dove out of the way. The edge of her skirt caught on fire, but she held the egg tight in one arm and doused the flame with some water from her wand.

“Fleur Delacour is the second champion to successfully obtain her egg!” Dumbledore announced as the Beauxbatons champion disappeared into the tent. 

“Next is Viktor Krum of Durmstrang!”

Viktor exited the tent next, glancing back over his shoulder as though someone were still speaking to him. When he did turn fully into the arena, he didn’t seem perturbed by the cheering crowds of students, but instead focused on the Chinese Fireball dragon now prowling the other side of the stadium.

“He must be used to this sort of attention.” Ron was visibly excited, perched on the edge of his seat. “The crowds and all.”

“Must help.” Harry agreed. The other competitors didn’t have the advantage that Viktor did, on that front. Maybe Viktor would finish the fastest, and get in first place, but for Harry’s own sake, he hoped Viktor wouldn’t-- Ron wouldn’t stop talking about it ever if it did.

Viktor did seem much calmer than both Fleur and Cedric, as he was already dashing across the arena floor. The Chinese Fireball let out a loud roar, emitting a plume of white-hot fire. Viktor dove out of the way, waiting for the flames to flicker out before whipping his wand into position.

He shouted something indiscernible over the screaming of the crowds. His wand fired off a bright flare, which hit the dragon square in the eyes.

“He’s just cast the Conjunctivitis Curse.” Hermione whispered excitedly. “That’s advanced magic.”

“And he knows that the eyes are a dragon’s weak point.” Ron responded breathlessly. “Charlie told me once.”

The Fireball was now howling in pain, claws were smashing the eggs, destroying the real ones, as it trampled around. Harry could only imagine the fuss Charlie would put up over it later. 

Krum managed to slide between the dragon’s limbs, scooping up the golden egg like some sort of oversized snitch. His run was a bit awkward, and nowhere near as graceful as he was on a broom, but he made it back to the champion’s tent without being injured.

“And Viktor Krum is our third and final successful champion! However, it seems the judges have taken points off Krum’s score, as his tactic caused the other eggs to be destroyed!” Dumbledore announced.

“Yeah, yeah, he lost, whatever, but who’s first?” Harry said, nearly bouncing in his seat. “Come on, Dumbledore, give us the real news!”

“In first, we have Fleur Delacour, who expertly performed a sleeping enchantment and Aguamenti Spell.” Dumbledore continued over the excited cheering of the Beauxbatons students. “And in second, Cedric Diggory, who displayed astounding strategic thinking and a clear understanding of advanced transfiguration.”

“She deserved the win.” Harry said, nodding. “Putting the dragon to sleep was awesome.”

“An early lead is usually a good sign for who’ll win the tournament.” Hermione added.

“I still think Krum’s got a good chance.” Ron huffed. “But she did alright. Charlie’ll be glad she didn’t hurt Green Bean.”

“I’m just glad the Horntail wasn’t here.” Harry grinned. “We wouldn’t have had three champions after this task if it was around, that’s for sure.”

“No need for the backup, really.” Ron agreed. “S’not like there’s a fourth champion waiting to run out there.”

“It’s the Triwizard Tournament, Ron.” Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Why would there be four champions?”


	9. Lily Evans, Fountain Of Knowledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had thought about asking everyone he knew, even his siblings, but the problem was more that he had a date in mind already. And that wasn’t even a new development-- the news of the imminent Yule Ball had simply brought the thought to the forefront of his mind, rather than letting it languish in its usual spot, somewhere between multiplying fractions and how to spell the word “occasional” without crying.
> 
> Some would call that having half the job done, but in Harry Potter’s case, it was a setback the size of an angry Hungarian Horntail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yule Ball's next week! Who's pumped? We are!
> 
> This chapter's going to be one of the ones that sticks with us, because I know we're both very proud of how it turned out. We did a good job, and I hope you guys think the same as well!
> 
> As always, leave comments and let us know how we're doing, and we'll see you again next Friday!
> 
> -S&L

“Harry?” Hermione called, as she climbed through the portrait hole. Harry, who was currently lounging in one of the armchairs, nearly tumbled out of his chair in an effort to appear as if he hadn’t been being thoroughly unproductive. “Harry!”

“I was, uh, working!” Harry said unconvincingly, which Hermione, for once, simply shrugged off. He sighed in relief, pulling at his clothes to straighten them out. “What’s going on?”

“I found Dobby.” Hermione said, looking quite excited. “And he’d very much like to see you. Where’s Ron?”

“Behind you.” Ron said as he tramped down the stairs to the boys’ dormitories. “Why?”

“Ron, come on. We’re going to meet Dobby.” Hermione said. “And you’re coming too.”

“Dobby?” Ron frowned as he joined his friends. “Wasn’t that the weird house elf that tried to kill Harry second year?”

“He wants to see me?” Harry asked, as the three of them headed toward the portrait hole. “What for?”

“He wants to thank you, of course.” Hermione said, staring confusedly at Harry as if his question was completely unnecessary. “For freeing him.”

“Oh.” Harry said, scratching the back of his head. “It was really mostly an accident.”

“How’d you even find him?” Ron asked.

“I found the kitchens, and he was working there.” Hermione said cheerfully. “He’s quite happy.”

“I’m glad he’s having a good time.” Harry said, nodding. Despite their initial misgivings, he was quite glad he’d gotten the opportunity to free Dobby. The elf had been trying to save him, even though he’d gone about it in weird and definitely illegal ways, and those attempted murders had, in their own peculiar way, kept Harry alive.

The trio made their way through the halls, only occasionally passing other students or ghosts. There was a slight roadblock when they made it to the moving staircases, as Ron paused to tie his shoe and was very nearly left behind. A few minutes of waiting later, Ron rejoined his friends, and they were on the move again.

Eventually, Hermione led them to a well-lit hallway with low ceilings. The portraits seemed to be mostly of food, and the atmosphere was incredibly pleasant.

“So how did you find the kitchens?” Ron asked, admiring a painting of tea and cake.

“I did exactly what you said.” Hermione said. “I read up on it.” She walked up to a painting of some fruit, and reached out to tickle the pear. Harry was about to warn her not to touch the painting out of habit-- he was used to Matt touching every painting he saw-- but was amazed when the pear turned into a door handle. Magic never failed to surprise him, even after growing up in the Wizarding World.

They shuffled through the door and found themselves in a room that rivaled the size of the Great Hall. The soaring ceilings were dotted with hanging chandeliers, and the walls were lined with fireplaces and brass cooking implements of all sizes and shapes. House elves scurried about busily, though several stopped to bow or curtsy to the students.

“Harry Potter! Harry Potter, sir!” Came a familiar squeak, and soon Dobby was racing towards the three of them, ears flapping as he ran.

“Dobby! Hey.” Harry said, kneeling down to get closer to the elf’s height. “How’ve you been?”

“Dobby has been wonderful, Harry Potter!” He responded gleefully.

“Haven’t taken on anyone new to protect, I hope?” Harry grinned.

“Certainly not- Dobby has been traveling!” He said, looking up at Harry with his tennis ball-sized eyes. “For two years, Dobby has searched for a job. No one wants a house elf that is looking for pay, no they don’t. But Dumbledore has taken Dobby on!”

“I’m glad.” Harry said. “How much are you getting paid here?”

Several of the other house elves shied away at the question, casting disapproving looks at Dobby, as though this were something to be ashamed of.

“A galleon a week!” Dobby nodded enthusiastically, the tea cozy pinned to his head like a hat nearly flopping into his face. “And Dobby gets a day off per month!”

“That isn’t very much…” Hermione said, concerned.

“Dumbledore offered ten galleons a week, and weekends off.” Dobby admitted. “But Dobby isn’t wanting too much freedom, now. He enjoys a little freedom, but is liking work better.”

“That’s good. What’s important is that you’re enjoying yourself and you’re safe. Things are better here, aren’t they?” Harry asked. Working anywhere would likely be preferable to working at the Malfoys’ residence, but he had to check.

“Dobby is loving Hogwarts!” He said with another nod.

“Good, good.” Harry grinned. “Was kinda worried that I’d ruined things for you, freeing you and all, but you’re doing well now, so I guess both of us came out ahead.”

“No, no, Dobby is wanting to thank Harry Potter for freeing him.” Dobby patted Harry’s hand. “That’s why Dobby asked Hermione Granger to bring you to the kitchens to visit, he did.”

“Well, she did. Here I am.” Harry said cheerily. “Thanks for keeping me alive second year. You had a weird way of doing it, but here we are.”

“Here we are.” Dobby agreed.

“Dobby, uh… what are you wearing?” Ron suddenly spoke up.

“Does Wheezy like Dobby’s clothes?” Dobby was clad in an incredibly odd outfit. When he had been with the Malfoys, all he had had to wear was a filthy pillowcase. Now he was dressed in a pair of children’s soccer shorts, two mismatched socks (one being the black one Harry had tricked Lucius Malfoy into giving to his house elf), a tie with an incredibly bright pattern, and a tea cozy pinned to his head.

“They’re… interesting.” Ron rubbed at the back of his neck. “Why don’t you have a shirt?”

“Dobby hasn’t found a shirt yet.” The elf tugged at his tie, straightening it proudly.

“We’ll find you one, if you’d like.” Harry said.

“How do you feel about jumpers?” Ron asked. “You can have one of the ones my mum sends for Christmas. We’ll have to shrink it a bit to fit you… I hope you like maroon.”

Dobby looked absolutely delighted.

“Everybody wins.” Harry said, grinning.

* * *

“What do you think this is about?” Ron muttered to Harry. All the Gryffindors were filing through an open doorway and lining up on either side of a large, empty hall. McGonagall had arranged a meeting for the house, though the reason why was unclear.

“Maybe she’s cancelling exams.” Harry said hopefully, although he was quite sure this was not the case. “Or Quidditch is coming back!”

“Quidditch I can deal with, but Hermione’d throw a fit if she canceled exams.” Ron grimaced.

“Thankfully she’s all the way on that side of the room, so we don’t have to deal with it.” Harry chuckled, elbowing Ron in the ribs.

Ron waved to Hermione, a small figure whose bushy hair stood out among the other female Gryffindors. “Guess so.”

“Yeah. Unless she runs. In which case, we can probably outrun her.” Harry didn’t sound nearly as confident in that as he’d like to. “Right?”

“Quiet, everyone.” McGonagall swept into the hall, glancing around at the assorted students as though searching for missing faces. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve called you here.”

“Whatever it was, we didn’t do it!” Came Fred’s voice, causing a smattering of laughter throughout the room.

McGonagall leveled a disapproving look at him before continuing. “As I’m sure some of you are already aware, the Yule Ball is approaching. This will be a wonderful opportunity to socialize with our guests, and I won’t tolerate any embarrassment stemming from the Gryffindor house.”

“A ball?” Harry whispered to Ron in disbelief. Sounded like an awful way to socialize with guests, in his opinion. He’d much rather do math problems with the students of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons-- at least they could properly bond over their misery, that way. “Does she think we’ll actually go?”

“Maybe for the food?” Ron shrugged, looking as though he were in complete agreement. “I don’t even have dress robes.”

“That being said,” McGonagall continued, “you will all be required to dance, of course. I won’t allow my students to set foot in the ballroom only to make fools of themselves.”

“This is going to be a problem. I can feel it.” Harry muttered to Ron.

“Mr. Weasley, if you please?” Ron’s head snapped up, meeting the professor’s gaze.

“Me?”

“Yes. Could you please come here?” It sounded less like a request and more like a demand. Ron shot his friend a helpless look as he stepped to the center of the room.

“We’ll be learning a standard waltz.” McGonagall addressed the gathered students before turning to Ron. She directed him to take one of her hands, placing her own on her shoulder. “Put your hand on my waist.”

“... What?” Ron blushed bright red, looking around the room as if searching for an escape route.

“My waist, Mr. Weasley.” McGonagall said, a note of annoyance creeping into her voice.

Harry, although hard pressed not to snicker at Ron, knew that drawing attention to himself, especially in such a charged situation, was nothing short of a horrible idea. At best, he would be scolded, and, at worst, Professor McGonagall would realize that there was a better target than Ron available. He slunk over to Fred and George as inconspicuously as possible, nudging George’s arm. “Ronnie’s going to dance, boys.”

George, who was already wolf whistling at his furiously blushing brother, threw an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “They grow up so fast.” He snickered.

“We’re never going to let him live this down, are we?” Harry whispered, stifling a laugh.

“Never.” Fred and George chorused in unison.

“D’you know anyone who’ll take me?” Harry asked, sighing dramatically. “All the girls I know hate me or are Hermione.”

“Don’t wait too long.” Fred advised. “All the good ones will be gone.”

“If you boys have the time to stand around talking, I suggest you find a partner and begin dancing.” McGonagall called. “The girls as well, of course. Find partners, everyone!”

“I’m gonna go get one of the good ones, then.” George grinned toothily. “Hey, Lee! Come dance with me!”

And with that, the twins were tramping off through the other students.

“Hermione!” Harry called out, waving his hand around in the hopes that his friend would see it. “Over here!” Thankfully, Hermione spotted his hand, running over. “Thanks. Wow. I was glad you were still around.”

“You say that like there was a line.” Hermione said, raising an eyebrow.

“It goes all the way down all the staircases to the Great Hall, haven’t you seen it?” Harry asked, prompting a laugh from Hermione. “Can you dance?”

“I’ve never tried.” Hermione said. “But I suppose it can’t be too hard.”

“Good.” Harry said, relieved. “You’re covering for us both.”

George and Lee Jordan spun past them, doing some odd version of a two-step that included far too much stomping and whistling.

“I suppose we’d better get started. Hands on my waist, Harry.” Hermione said, placing her hands on Harry’s shoulders.

“Do we have to do this?” Harry asked, grimacing. “Now?”

“Now.” Hermione said, sounding far more menacing than she intended, and Harry quickly placed his hand on her waist, trying his best to approximate what he remembered from McGonagall’s demonstration with Ron. When the music was turned off, the pair gratefully separated, and Harry grinned sheepishly in Hermione’s direction.

“Sorry.” He said, scratching the back of his head. “Hey, I’ll take you to the library on the night of the ball. My treat. You can read at me and everything.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I’d rather go, date or not.” Hermione said, reaching up to ruffle Harry’s hair. “You might want to get started on improving those dancing skills, though. Any date of yours’ll leave immediately, if that’s all you’ve got to offer.” She grinned at him before walking off, leaving Harry stuck somewhere between annoyance and befuddlement.

When had Hermione become such a girl about things?

“You alright there, mate?” Ron asked, thumping Harry on the back.

“I’m not even sure what just happened, honestly.” Harry said, shaking his head. “Plus, there are more important matters at hand.”

“Like what?” Ron asked.

“You danced with Professor McGonagall in public.” Harry grinned, even as Ron went even paler than normal. “And I’m going to tell your mother.”

* * *

“If I wasn’t thankful I wasn’t one of the champions before…” Harry muttered, rubbing his forehead. At least he had the option of staying in, the night of the ball-- they didn’t even have that. Harry was rather set on going, though, if only to watch his classmates embarrass themselves. But if he was going, he would need to have a date, and he was currently less likely to find one of those than Ron. And Ron had already made a fool of himself a few times-- Harry hadn’t even had a proper try at it.

To make matters even worse, it was already Thursday-- the ball was Saturday night.

It wasn’t for lack of considering his options-- he’d thought about asking everyone he knew, even his siblings, but the problem was more that he had a date in mind already. And that wasn’t even a new development-- the news of the imminent Yule Ball had simply brought the thought to the forefront of his mind, rather than letting it languish in its usual spot, somewhere between multiplying fractions and how to spell the word “occasional” without crying.

Some would call that having half the job done, but in Harry Potter’s case, it was a setback the size of an angry Hungarian Horntail. Perhaps, he thought, smiling softly to himself at the thought of dirt under short, stubby fingernails, a plant metaphor would be more appropriate.

Unfortunately, no amount of metaphors could fix his current problem, Harry thought, before reaching over the arm of the chair he was currently sitting in to grab a sheet of parchment out of his school bag, fishing a quill and some ink out as well. If anyone would have a solution, it would be his mother. She’d gone on at least two dates in her life, as far as he knew, so she should know how to ask someone on one. And even if she didn’t, she’d know what Appa had done, which would be a solid indicator of what not to do.

“Dear Amma”, He wrote, across the top of the parchment, before pausing to think. How would he phrase this? This wasn’t the sort of question you asked your mother out of the blue-- and although he could trust her to keep it quiet, he’d have to make sure it was said delicately enough that his siblings wouldn’t pick it out easily. Would she tell them, if one of them asked, even after all that careful thought?

Harry groaned in frustration. Yes, she absolutely would. All hope was as good as lost.

“How do you ask someone on a date? Asking for a friend.” He scribbled down, a few minutes later, and set the parchment aside for the ink to dry. Any response was better than none at all, and if his siblings laughed at him too much, he had enough dirt on them to support a decently large rainforest.

* * *

Some days, Lily was glad that there was only this year left before Sarah went off to Hogwarts.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her oldest daughter-- she only meant that it was nearly impossible to break up a fight between her and Anne. Drew, although to a lesser extent, antagonized both of his sisters. If he wasn’t backing Anne up, he was usually arguing with her himself.

Matt, of course, was almost always a perfect angel.

She loved all her children, no matter how troublesome they were. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t exhausted by the end of the day.

She sank gratefully into one of the armchairs in her bedroom, glad that the day was finished and all the children were safely asleep. James was due back from work any minute, but until then her only company was the soft purring of Satan, who had taken up his usual spot at the foot of their bed.

Her moment of peace was short lived, as there was a soft tapping noise at the window. She let out a groan, but got to her feet all the same. Hedwig hopped through the threshold as she tugged open the glass, waving a small piece of parchment.

She ran a hand across Satan’s fur as she read the brief message, chuckling quietly. “He’s just like his father.” She murmured.

By the time Lily sent Hedwig off with a response, she could hear her husband moving around in the kitchen downstairs.

 

> _Dear Hari,_
> 
> _The most important part is not to think too hard about it. If your ‘friend’ likes this person, and they like them back, then everything will work out. Eventually. It took your Appa and I a few years, but we got there in the end._
> 
> _Don’t go insulting their friends or hobbies, and be nice about it. Smile- you’ve got a lovely smile. I’m sure your friend does too._
> 
> _You’ll have to take it with grace if they decline- it’s no fault of yours, so don’t feel too bad about it. Either way, I wish you the best of luck. You’ll be a wonderful date._
> 
> _Love,_  
>  _Amma_

* * *

 

“What if we just all take each other?” Harry said, nudging Hermione’s foot with his own to get her attention. Hermione looked up from her homework, her only response a roll of her eyes. “That’s not nice.”

“I mean he has a point.” Ron hummed. “Better than going alone, right?”

“I’ll take Ron, Ron’ll take you, and you’ll take me. Three way date. Awesome.” Harry grinned, happy to have found somewhat of a solution. At least this one was actually possible, unlike the prospects of Harry getting the date he wanted.

“I bet most of our class thinks we’re gonna go as a group anyways.” Ron agreed with a shrug. “Not like we ever do anything apart.”

“You’re assuming that none of us can get a date. At least one of us has to have a good chance.” Hermione said, turning back to her homework.

“None of us have dates, don’t be ridiculous.” Ron rolled his eyes. “That’s why we’re asking you-- you’re a girl.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione said, putting her homework aside as she glared at Ron. “What does me being a girl have to do with anything?”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that!” Harry cut in. “Ron’s just saying that he figured no one would’ve asked you yet, is all. Saving the best for last, I guess.”

“Well, yeah. You don’t have a date, and you’re a girl and my friend. Perfect combination, right?” Ron looked taken aback by her anger, obviously unaware of how crude his comparisons were.

“For your information,” Hermione spat, eyes ablaze with fury, “I have a date. And if you’d had the guts to ask me before he did, for any reason other than the fact that you’ve just now realized I’m a girl, I would’ve gone with you!” She grabbed her homework and stalked off toward the girls’ dormitory stairs.

Ron gaped after her, mouth opening and closing soundlessly for several moments before he managed to choke words out. “What the bloody hell is her problem?” He asked.

“Well, she’s got feelings. You didn’t really recognize that.” Harry shrugged. “Plus, I mean, assuming she wouldn’t have gotten a date was a bit harsh.”

“But she hasn’t!” Ron protested. “She would have told us if she did.”

“If she says she’s got a date, I’ll believe her.” Harry shrugged. “She said she would’ve gone with you if she didn’t have a date, I mean, that’s proof enough that she’s got one.”

Ron slouched forward onto the table, eyebrows drawing together. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” He mumbled.

* * *

"Neville!" Harry called out as he ran through the greenhouse doors, waving his arm about wildly as if that would catch Neville's attention. This incredible plan, however, failed to take into account the fact that Neville was both occupied and facing the other way.

"Nev! Hey!" Harry yelled, seconds before barreling into Neville. Neville, who was not known for his agility even when entirely focused on all aspects of the situation at hand, brought them both tumbling down onto the greenhouse floor. Harry scrambled back to his feet, holding out a hand to help Neville off the floor.

"Harry?" Neville asked, confused, as Harry helped him up off the floor, brushing dirt off his trousers. Neville’s surprise at seeing him in the greenhouses struck guilt into Harry’s heart, and he resolved to visit him more often. Seeing that expression on his face again was simply not an option. "What's going on?"

"I've got you a present!" Harry said, retrieving a Canary Cream George had hurriedly gifted him with on his way out of Gryffindor Tower, upon hearing of what Harry was planning to do. The wrapper was slightly wet, as if someone had been holding it in a sweaty palm for too long. Which made sense, considering Harry had nearly squished it in his hand at least ten times on the way to the greenhouses. "'Cause George said it'd be a good idea, to give you a present first, and all."

"For what?" Neville frowned, hesitantly accepting the gift. "I didn't do anything that deserves a present."

"Yeah, well, you're about to." Harry grinned, trying to hide his nerves with good old fashioned bravado. He could tell by the look on Neville’s face that it wasn’t working, so he cut straight to the chase. "Go to the ball with me? It'll be fun, promise. I've been told I'm quite a good date."

Harry’s smile dropped as he nervously tugged at his sleeves. Hopefully Neville would say yes, and even if he did, this wasn't the sort of thing people stopped being friends over, was it? Neville would be cool. Harry's face felt unreasonably hot, and he awkwardly shifted his weight between his feet.

“Who said that?” Neville asked, bemused, twisting the ends of the candy wrapper between his gloved fingers. He seemed relaxed. Should Harry? Would that be the right thing to do? Harry chuckled nervously, hoping that was an appropriate enough response. “You know your mum always just tells you what you want to hear.”

“I’m sure she wasn’t lying, I mean, I’m pleasant most days and good at conversations.” Harry shrugged, scratching the back of his head. Neville wasn’t saying much of anything at all, in the way of an answer. Was that a no? Should he ask again? Would that be ridiculous? This was all far too much work-- Harry was beginning to wish he’d just decided to stay in on the night of the ball instead. Even homework was preferable to embarrassment of this order. “Isn’t that all you need to be a good date?”

“I guess so.” Neville said, smiling. “So what does this one do?”

“What does what do?” Harry asked, frowning in confusion.

“The candy.” Neville said. “Am I going to turn into an elephant? Is my tongue going to grow?”

“Close on the elephant one.” Harry said with a grin. Although the Ton Tongue Toffees had been a brilliant idea, Fred and George hadn’t yet found a willing test subject, so they were currently out of circulation until the effects could be properly determined. Hermione, who was still disappointed in Fred and George’s less academic ventures, had announced that she was at least glad they were holding themselves to some ethical standards, with regard to product testing. “It’ll turn you into a bird. Got anyone in mind to try it on?”

“No one in particular, but I’ll keep that in mind.” Neville said with a smile, tucking the candy into his pocket. “Thanks for the gift. You didn’t need to bribe me, though.”

“Bribe?” Harry sputtered indignantly. “I’ve done nothing of the sort!”

“You gave me candy to go to the ball with you, prank candy nonetheless.” Neville said, laughing. “You should’ve known I wouldn’t need that.”

“I should’ve known what?” Harry asked, honestly confused. Was that a yes? Was Neville letting him down gently? This was a stupid idea, he should’ve known it from the beginning. Neville likely had a date already, and he was just trying to stall. How could Harry have been so stupid as to assume he’d be free, after all this time? It was just as Fred had said-- he’d gotten started too late, and now the good ones were gone.

“I’ll go.” Neville said, grinning at Harry before turning back to the plant he was attending to. Harry sputtered in surprise, and Neville chuckled. “With you, I mean.”

“You will?” Harry asked in disbelief. Neville had said yes. Yes. To Harry. All on his own. No convincing necessary. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Neville said, looking back over to Harry to smile. “Now come on, I need help.”

“Sounds alright by me.” Harry said, eagerly trooping over to take the watering can Neville held out toward him. “I’m glad. That you said yes, I mean.”

“Me too.” Neville said, shoving Harry’s arm lightly, and the two of them broke out into a fit of giggles.


	10. The Yule Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It was a good date, Harry.” Neville started toward the Great Hall door, taking the same path Hermione had minutes before.
> 
> “So you’re open to another?” Harry called out, a little too loudly, and looked absolutely mortified when a couple people turned toward him. Neville cast a smile at Harry over his shoulder, before disappearing through the double doors. Now, more than ever, there was more than enough occasion to be brave. “I’m taking the silence as a yes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the chapter all of us have been waiting for! I hope you all enjoy it as much as we enjoyed writing it! The next few weeks are going to get a little messy, in terms of scheduling, but we'll do our bests to stick to a chapter a week. We'll try to let you know as soon as possible if that's not feasible though.
> 
> We're coming up on a big milestone, though-- judging by usual chapter length, the next one's going to take us over 250,000 words for the series! We're amazed by that, especially considering we just hit 200k in October, but it's proof that we're doing our job right!
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking with us through one more week, and we'll see you again next Friday!
> 
> -S&L

“I thought being an adult meant that you didn’t have to go to these things anyone.” James groaned, falling backward onto their bed. He’d just added a tie to his usual stodgy old professor ensemble, in the way of dressing up, and if anyone complained about it, he’d cooked up quite a few ideas of how to give them a piece of his mind. “But no, Dumbledore says ‘have a fun night out, take your wife, nothing bad’ll happen’. Remind me to introduce him to the other four, if he thinks Hari’s the worst we’ve got.”

“I’m kind of looking forward to watching him deal with all five of them.” Lily hummed, fingers brushing over fabric as she looked through their closet.

“As am I. I’ll make sure to get you some evidence.” James laughed, before looking contemplative. “He does have a point, though. We haven’t had a night to ourselves in a while. It’ll be a nice departure from the ordinary.”

“Nine years.” Lily hummed, pulling a set of faded dress robes from the closet. They hadn’t tried to leave their children with a babysitter since the triplets were around eight months old, thanks to a ridiculous incident involving the spice rack, an entire drawer full of spoons, and an unprecedented failure of the baby proofing spells. “Not that I’ve been counting.”

“No one’s been counting, babe.” James said cheerfully. He was lying, and both of them knew it.

“Unfortunately, since our last date was almost a decade ago, I have nothing to wear.” Lily sighed, tossing the robes down beside her husband. “Can I just go in my pajamas?”

“You’d be stunning regardless.” James shrugged. “I’m sure they won’t mind too much if you’re not as dressed up as the little nerds will be. Speaking of little nerds, has Hari found a date? I asked him how things were going and he looked like he was about to cry.”

Before his amused wife could respond, the door was thrust open. Drew barrelled in, parchment clutched in one hand, before freezing. “Sorry!” He shouted, racing back out and closing the door.

A moment later, there was a knock.

“Come in, buggy.” Lily chuckled as their son poked his head back in.

“What seems to be the problem?” James asked, sitting back up. “Oh no, you’ve got a letter. Has he been expelled already?”

“How old do you have to be to get married?” Drew asked seriously.

“At least nineteen, preferably thirty. Why?” James frowned.

“That’s no good.” Drew looked down at the letter. “Hari Anna wants to know what he should get his date, but I guess he isn’t old enough to get married.”

“Maybe we should wait a few years on an engagement.” Lily advised. “Flowers are a good start.”

“Flowers are good. Just make sure Hari’s date isn’t allergic or something.” James said, wincing. “Bad memories.”

“You went on dates?” Drew looked surprised to learn that his parents had, in fact, had a life before being middle aged parents.

“No, your Uncle Remus went on dates.” James corrected. “I just gave horrible advice.”

“It’s true.” Lily hummed, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

“... Huh. Well, Neville really likes plants, so flowers are probably a good idea.” Drew decided.

“Neville?” James asked, confused. “What’s he got to do with this?”

“He’s Hari’s date.” Drew shrugged.

“Frank owes me ten galleons.” Lily hummed.

“I wouldn’t doubt it.” James chuckled. “Our Frankie’s horrible at bets. Got to admit, though, I didn’t see it coming either.”

“Seriously?” Lily raised an eyebrow.

“Me neither.” Drew turned to leave the room, obviously intent on finding parchment for his reply letter.

“Men.” Lily sighed.

“Where was this evidence I was missing, then?” James asked, raising an eyebrow. “Since it’s so obvious, enlighten the rest of us.”

“Well, most recently, Hari has written asking for relationship advice for a ‘friend’, as well as written home five times in the past month with letters mostly consisting of Neville’s herbology projects. He asked what he should get for Neville for Christmas-- about a month ago. Do you really think our son is capable of thinking that far in advance if he didn’t have a crush?”

“That’s incredible.” James said, nodding slowly. Harry had never been the type to plan things in advance, often deciding it was far more effort halfway through and running headlong at his goals instead, sometimes more literally than others. This kind of foresight was entirely unprecedented. “Gets that from you, for sure.”

“Definitely not.” Lily grinned at her husband, a mischievous glint entering her green eyes. “Remember that set of advanced transfiguration books I got you for our first anniversary?”

“That was a good gift.” James grinned. “I still have those. They’ve gotten chewed on a fair bit over the years, but that’s thankfully not my fault.” The books had served him well as a distraction, when they were cooped up in Godric’s Hollow, and Harry had enjoyed them as well, although in a very different way. No matter how much James tried over the years since, he still hadn’t been able to rid the covers of his oldest son’s teeth marks.

“Yeah, someone gave those to me for Christmas. I hadn’t taken them out of the package, and I’d forgotten it was our anniversary until you mentioned it, so I pulled them out of my closet.” Lily told him. In her defense, she hadn’t thought to count how long her and James had been dating. There had been a war going on, after all, and it was easier to live in the moment and enjoy what they had than to keep track of it.

“Well, they got put to good use.” James said, looking a little somber. Anniversaries, and even time passing had been hard to keep track of, when all they saw were the same few rooms every day. He hadn’t held it against her then, and he didn’t now. It had gotten easier after Harry was born-- the passing of time could be tracked by his naps, meals and bedtimes, but until then, it had all been a mess. “Too bad none of those bedtime stories were appreciated. No, it was always ‘Appa, dragons’, or ‘Appa, other book’.”

“I wish I could say he’s changed.” Lily smiled.

“Well, there’s one thing to look forward to.” James said, looking cheerful again. “We get to tease the hell out of him tonight.”

“He’s going to hate us.” Lily grinned. “I can’t wait.”

“Neither can I.” James laughed. “If he’s anywhere as close to as bad as we were, this’ll be a treat to watch.”

“It’s times like this I’m glad you took the job.” Lily said, shaking her head.

* * *

Harry nervously paced back and forth in front of the entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room. A few Hufflepuffs, while leaving the Common Room, had smiled sympathetically at him or waved cheerfully, and he’d nodded back, nervously tugging at the sleeves of his dress robes. What if Neville had changed his mind and forgotten to tell him? What if he’d found a better date? That wasn’t entirely out of the question.

It wouldn’t be particularly hard either-- Harry had actually combed his hair, in an effort to look somewhat put together, and it had looked even more monstrous than when he gave it free reign. Thankfully, it had righted itself by the time he’d made it down the stairs, because he would’ve been torn apart if he still looked just as bad as he had in the mirror.

“Ready to go?” A quiet voice asked, and Harry looked to his right to see Neville, clad in a pair of dress robes similar to his own.

“Uh, yeah, very much ready.” Harry pumped a fist in the air, cursing himself for how awkward that must’ve looked right afterward. Judging by Neville’s quiet laughter, it had been every bit as ridiculous looking as he’d thought. A great start to the night, Harry thought bitterly. “Let’s smash this thing. School dance. I can do it.”

“Are you planning on any dancing?” Neville asked, sounding a little nervous, as they began their trek down to the Great Hall. “Not that I want to, of course, but I’m just asking. In case you wanted to.”

“Don’t have to be embarrassed about it if you’d like to, Nev.” Harry shrugged, reaching out to squeeze Neville’s hand. Neville smiled, the tips of his ears burning red. “I’m pants at it, but I’ll try my best. As long as we’re in a corner where no one can see us.”

“I’m sure we can find a corner.” Neville said, sounding relieved. “And I bet you’re not too bad.”

“When McGonagall tried to teach us, Hermione ran away, once we were done.” Harry said mournfully, and Neville winced. “Yeah. That bad.”

“Practice makes perfect.” Neville offered, after a few seconds’ pause to think. “Maybe if you try a few times tonight, you’ll be better by the next time.”

“Are you committing to a next time, then?” Harry grinned, allowing himself a laugh. Did he sound too nervous? Was he overdoing it? Neville would tell him, if he was being a horrible date. Would he? Harry’s heart felt like it was beating a mile a minute, and he was sure his hands were incredibly sweaty.

“Depends on how tonight goes.” Neville said, as they made it down the last steps into the Entrance Hall. “You’ll have to earn it. Mum says that’s how you get boys to stick around.”

“Oh!” Harry said, suddenly remembering the flowers he’d brought Neville. “I’ve been lugging these around all afternoon, but they’re for you.” He held the flowers he’d been holding tightly in his fist out.

As far as he knew, Neville wasn’t allergic to anything, but the closest thing he’d been able to find were a bunch of scraggly wildflowers around the Hogwarts grounds. Not that he had gone looking. No, Harry Potter had not spent half an afternoon wandering about the Hogwarts grounds, looking for flowers. That would just be silly.

“They’re brilliant.” Neville said softly, holding his hand out to take them from Harry. “And they’re purple too. I like purple.”

“That you do, yeah.” Harry cheered internally. Tonight was going his way, even if it was just a little victory. That was much, much better than nothing. “Figured you’d find that extra special. Me putting in some good, solid effort and all.”

“You say that like you don’t normally.” Neville said, chuckling. “Come on, then. We’ve got a dance to go to.”

“Do we have to?” Harry asked, sounding a little whiny more for the fun of it than anything else. “Can’t we just run off and muck about in the mud for a couple hours or something? Worked well enough, when we were younger.”

“Well, we’re all dressed up, so that’d wreck our robes.” Neville said, shrugging. Neville had always been the practical one of the bunch, for as long as Harry could remember. He was always the one worrying about mud and grass stains, despite the fact that he led expeditions into the mud as often as Harry and Ron did. Harry had no idea how the quality that had once annoyed him to no end had become endearing, but he supposed that’s what happened with people you liked. “And I’d like to go, if you don’t mind.”

“Was kidding around, mate.” Harry said, grinning. “Let’s go in, then. Can’t block the doorway for too much longer without people getting a little angry.”

“I suppose we can’t.” Neville said. “Shall we go in then?”

“We shall.” Harry said, pulling the most ridiculous face he could to coax another laugh about Neville, before determinedly making his way in. There was no reason for him to be afraid-- these were all his friends, or people he didn’t know, and it’s not like anyone would pick a fight with him. They’d just assume he and Neville were going as friends, an idea that Harry desperately wanted to destroy by the time the night was over, and if there was any trouble, Harry could get his father to take care of it.

Harry’s expression grew grim, and he stopped in his tracks.

That’s what he’d forgotten.

His parents would be here.

Harry abruptly let go of Neville’s hand, scanning the room for his parents. Not to his left-- Dean and Seamus were on his left, holding hands and laughing, as usual. Not to his right-- was that Parvati and Lavender? Huh. He hadn't seen that coming.

Oh, great, there his parents were, right in front of him, waving.

He was never going to live this down.

“Nev.” Harry whispered urgently. “Hide me.”

“You’re taller than I am, mate. It’s not going to work.” Neville said, looking slightly regretful, but did his best to hide Harry with the few seconds’ time they had. Harry bent his knees to reduce his height a little, pressing his side up against Neville’s back. This should last. Hopefully his parents would assume that he’d left or something.

Who was he kidding? They wouldn’t.

“Harry.” He turned to find his parents standing nearby, dressed surprisingly well. His mother’s dress was muggle in design, as opposed to the dress robes most of the female professors were wearing. “I see you asked him! And how dashing he looks, too.” Lily smiled.

“Adi told you, didn’t he?” Harry asked despondently, deciding that suffering in the short time might gain him some sympathy in the long run. He reluctantly straightened up, moving to stand beside Neville. “I told him not to.”

“Can’t trust nine year olds, Hari.” James said, sounding far too cheerful. “So, Neville, how’d he ask you out?”

“Well, he was a little worried about it, much more than he needed to be.” Neville said, sounding quite nervous himself. “Found me in the Herbology greenhouses and, after a bit of stalling, he asked me to the ball and I said yes. It was nice.”

“This is precious.” Lily cooed. “I should have brought a camera.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Harry grumbled. Neville patted his shoulder, which did quite a bit to help his mood, but he couldn’t let that show if he didn’t want to get laughed at for years.

“Rule number one is not to be embarrassed of your date, son.” James said, grinning.

“I’m not!” Harry protested. “I just don’t like being made fun of. Come on, Nev. Let’s go fight Ron or something.”

“We’ll catch up later!” Neville called out, as Harry dragged him away from his parents by the hand. “Wow. Close call.”

“If it’d gotten any closer, I’d have eaten my own foot.” Harry said, shuddering. “That was terrifying.”

“They were quite nice about it.” Neville said. “Your dad especially. He only made one joke the whole time.”

“One joke’s more than none.” Harry said, sighing. “Come on, the Champions are about to come in. Have you seen Ron or Hermione yet?”

“I came in with you, silly.” Neville squeezed Harry’s hand as they found two free chairs. “I haven’t though. Maybe we’ll spot Ron soon. I’ll watch the door. He’s bound to be coming in late.”

“Same here.” Harry kept an eye on the door, but the friend he spotted wasn’t the friend he was expecting.

Hermione strode through the doors to the Great Hall, arm linked with Viktor Krum’s, and Harry couldn’t help but smile. She looked happy, happier than she’d been since the fight with Ron, and he was glad that she was having a good night. That was what this was supposed to be all about, wasn’t it? Although he’d have to fight Viktor, now, so he wouldn’t be having a great night, but what mattered was that Hermione enjoyed herself.

And it seemed like she’d enjoyed getting ready for the ball as much as she was going to enjoy being there-- she’d done something to her hair to make it lay flat, and had found a flowy, bluish dress that looked quite good on her. Good job, Hermione, Harry thought, nodding sagely. Looking good was the hard part of the battle, and feeling good came easily after that.

“She looks happy.” Neville said, smiling wide. “I’m glad. She’s seemed a little off, the past few days.”

“She had a bit of a fight with Ron. He was being pretty insensitive.” Harry sighed. “We’ll have to punch some sense into him. How free are you over the holidays?

“I’m good after the fifth. I’d rather not fight on holidays. That’s still during school, though, so it wasn’t even on the table to begin with.” Neville frowned thoughtfully. “And we’re busy on the twenty-fifth for the triplets’ birthday. So I suppose whenever other than that, then.”

“Ron’ll be busy on the twenty-fifth as well. Christmas.” Harry said, scratching the back of his head. “Why is Christmas such a big deal anyway?”

“Why are you asking me?” Neville raised an eyebrow.

“Good point.” Harry nodded, grinning sheepishly.

The Longbottom and Potter families had made a habit of spending Christmas together ever since the war had ended, simply because neither of them really celebrated it, and it had turned into a built in birthday party for the triplets where everyone got gifts, but especially them. Everyone often made a joke of pretending they’d forgotten the triplets’ birthday, but thankfully, over the years, the triplets had begun to realize that wasn’t true. There had been several tearful birthdays from Matt first, however, which was quite the downer.

The rest of the champions had filed in, while Neville and Harry were talking, and they got up, rushing toward the pack of people clustered around the dance floor when the music started, eager to see what promised to be a humongous disaster. Unfortunately for Harry, it was much better than he’d thought it would be. He was hoping that if at least one of the champions or their dates were even half as bad as he was, his lack of skill in that department wouldn’t be as obvious, but Viktor, Cedric, Fleur and their dates all seemed at home on the dance floor.

Harry groaned, rubbing his eye with a fist. Things had looked so good, and now they looked so, so bad.

“It’s not nearly so hard as you’re thinking.” Neville said, tugging on Harry’s hand. “Come on. I’ll show you.” Neville lead him off to one of the more shadowy corners, thankfully unoccupied. “Put your hand on my waist.” Harry fidgeted nervously, looking distinctly awkward. “Come on, then. Do it.”

Harry put his free hand on Neville’s waist, fidgeting even more as Neville put his hand on Harry’s shoulder blade. This was going to be horrid, and Neville was never going to agree to a second date, and this was all going to be a right mess. He shouldn’t have asked him in the first place.

“Just feel the music a bit.” Neville said, whispering into Harry’s ear. “The rhythm, I mean. One, two, three. Four, five, six. Got it?”

Harry nodded, accidentally clipping Neville in the side of the head. “Sorry.”

“That was my fault.” Neville said, laughing. “Now you’ve just got to get the feet right. That’s not too hard. Alright, start with your feet together, opposite mine.” He paused as Harry followed the instruction. “Left foot forward.” Harry stepped forward with his right foot, nearly crushing Neville’s toes. “Other left, Harry.”

“Right, right.” Harry muttered, trying to hide how embarrassed he was. “Left, I mean. You get it.” He stepped forward with his left foot.

“Now move your right foot up to the left, but not right next to it like it was before. Sort of like this.” Neville demonstrated, smiling cheerfully as Harry, although markedly more clumsily, imitated him. “Then you slide your left foot over to the right, so they’re together again. Right foot goes back. Left goes diagonally back to where you started, then you slide your right foot over until you’re right back at the beginning.”

Harry did his best to duplicate the steps as Neville was teaching them, feeling a little less nervous by the end. “That wasn’t so hard.”

“I was telling you the whole time.” Neville said, laughing. “You’ll get better with practice. And what better time to get practice than now, right?”

“We’re at a ball.” Harry said, nodding sagely. “Might as well dance.”

“There you guys are!” Suddenly Ron was beside them, looking incredibly uncomfortable. His ruffly, moth eaten dress robes hung from his frame, a size or two too large, and several decades out of date. “I couldn’t find you.”

“We’ve been right here the whole time.” Harry said, frowning in confusion. “Where were you looking?”

“Have you seen Hermione?” Neville asked excitedly. “She looks great!”

“Yeah- she’s here with Viktor Krum!” He said, glancing over his shoulder as though looking for her.

“She did have a date.” Harry said. “Maybe we should listen to Hermione more often.”

“But he’s… he’s Durmstrang’s champion.” Ron said, throwing an arm up.

“The tournament’s about making friends, mate.” Harry shrugged. Of course, when told that the tournament was about international magical cooperation, Hermione would find a friend from another school to go with. She had a habit of taking things much more seriously than they were meant. “You know Hermione, when someone sets a bar, she’s got to equal it at the very least.”

“Equal it? She’s gone and gotten Viktor Krum as her date, Harry.” Ron looked entirely appalled, though he seemed to be having difficulty explaining why.

“And he’s a student from Durmstrang. International magical cooperation.” Harry shrugged.

“Too much cooperation, if you ask me.” Ron grumbled.

“They’re just hanging out at a school dance, Ron.” Harry rolled his eyes. “She’s not marrying him.”

“Who’s not getting married?” A familiar voice piped up, and Harry, Ron and Neville turned around to see a smiling Hermione. “By the way, Harry, your mother told me to tell you that Neville did a good job teaching you to dance.”

“I hate dances.” Harry muttered glumly, receiving a hug from Hermione, who wasn’t normally this forthcoming with affection of that magnitude. That put a smile on his face almost as easily as Neville had all night. “How’s Viktor? Good date?”

“We’re just going as friends, Harry, don’t be silly.” Hermione laughed. “He’s been nothing but pleasant, don’t worry.”

“He certainly seems more friendly than ‘friends’.” Ron crossed his arms. “Where’s he gone off to?”

“More friendly than--” All the warmth in Hermione’s smile disappeared, taking the smile with it. “What do you want to know that for?”

“When did you even talk to him?” Ron ignored her question. “You’d never mentioned it before.”

“He took to hiding in the library, to avoid all the girls following him around. I spend time in the library. So we got to talking, and then he asked me, and I said yes.” Hermione said, sounding quite annoyed. “I do have a life outside the two of you, believe it or not.”

The generalization stung, but Harry knew it wasn’t meant for him, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Well, why did he ask you? Is he having you help him figure out the egg?” Ron asked crossly.

“No!” Hermione said, horrified. “We’re friends, having a fun time. I’m not helping him cheat!”

“It’s not like she would, anyway.” Harry said, frowning. Ron had a tendency to get ahead of himself when mad, something that never failed to set Hermione off even at the best of times, and this was definitely not the best of times. They hadn’t even gotten past their last fight yet. “Hermione’s just as loyal to Hogwarts as the rest of us, Ron. She’d be the last to give Viktor any information Cedric didn’t already have.”

“How would you know?” Ron snapped. “She’s barely been talking to us lately-- probably off having fun with Viktor.”

“You know what?” Hermione said, sounding close to tears. Harry reached out for her hand, but she batted his away, looking slightly apologetic afterward before glaring at Ron. “I quit! For once in my life, I tried to have a good night! I tried to make it all perfect, and you, Ronald Weasley, can’t let me have anything! All I wanted was one night and you’ve gone and ruined it!” She ran off toward the entrance to the Great Hall, clearly crying from the way her shoulders were shaking.

Ron stared after her, aghast. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to make her cry.” He turned to Harry, blue eyes wide. “What did I say? She never gets like that!”

“You said a lot of stuff, mate.” Harry said, fidgeting awkwardly. He wanted to go after Hermione himself, but Ron had already fought with Hermione. Ron didn’t need a fight with him as well. And Hermione understood that he was on her side, regardless of whether he ran after her or not, didn’t she? “Look, one of us should go after her, and Ron… Don’t get me wrong, but I really don’t think it should be you.”

“I’ll do it.” Neville said, reaching over to squeeze Harry’s shoulder. “It was a good date, Harry.” He started toward the Great Hall door, taking the same path Hermione had minutes before.

“So you’re open to another?” Harry called out, a little too loudly, and looked absolutely mortified when a couple people turned toward him. Neville cast a smile at Harry over his shoulder, before disappearing through the double doors. Now, more than ever, there was more than enough occasion to be brave. “I’m taking the silence as a yes!”

“Oh, James, he’s kinda like you, back in seventh year.” Lily smiled at her husband from where they were standing by the wall.

“I’m glad he’s starting out ahead, at least.” James grinned. “Could be like fifth year me, then we’d have a whole other problem.”

“I think you turned out alright.” Lily told him.

“Kids are all about improving on yourself.” James said. “At least he can sort of dance. That’s your improvement.”

“Oh, very funny.” She rolled her eyes fondly. “Pots and kettles, James. We all know you have two left legs.”

“I’m called Potter for a reason.” James said cheerfully. “You should’ve seen this coming.”

“Well, I was never very good at divination.” Lily said ruefully.

“At least I wasn’t half bad.” James laughed. “Although no one could’ve seen the triplets coming.”

“Merlin, no.” Lily sighed. “I would have divorced you if we had.”

“I’m glad I didn’t. If I’d seen that many years of school complaints coming, I’d have never spoken to you.” James shuddered.

Lily looped her arm through her husband’s, eyes trailing over to Harry, who had ditched Ron to hide under a table with Padma Patil, hoping to avoid having to dance with anyone else.

“Well,” she hummed, “maybe it’s a good thing neither of us are seers.”


	11. Everyone's A Little Bit Racist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Maybe your next column could be an admission to the harm that discrimination causes.” Hermione said, voice heavy with bitterness. “You can cite your last article as an example.”
> 
> “Sit down, you silly little girl, and don’t talk about things you don’t understand.” Rita pursed her lips, her eyes going cold. “I know things about Rubeus Hagrid that would make your hair curl… not that it needs it.” She added, eyeing Hermione’s bushy hair.
> 
> “Don’t talk to her like that.” Harry said angrily, standing up from his seat. How dare Rita behave like that? He should’ve seen it coming, judging by the discriminatory tripe her article had been full of, but to say something like that to a kid? And Hermione was a kid-- she was barely fifteen, and that was still two years off from seventeen. Only the most despicable of people would do that. “Don’t you say a _word_ against Hermione.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the update was so late, but school happened, and then finals happened, and now here we are, right on the edge of 2015's Christmas and New Years Hiatus. We'll be taking the next two Fridays (December 25th and January 1st) off, but we'll be back on January 8th with a brand new chapter, and if everything goes as planned, you might get something special from me and a good friend of mine before then!
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking with us through the past 250,000 words (yes, this is the 250k chapter!). We'll be spending our two weeks off celebrating this milestone quite a bit-- hitting a milestone like this only ten chapters after the last one means a lot to us, and I'm hoping it means a fair bit to you guys as well. It's starting to feel like we're really achieving something, and we hope that's still coming through to you guys every week.
> 
> Happy holidays to those celebrating anything over these next few weeks, and to those who aren't, have a wonderful winter break. Regardless, we'll see you back on January 8th! 
> 
> -S&L

For all the lack of faith Harry had in Christmas, proximity to it sure seemed to cause miracles. Ron and Hermione were speaking to each other again, although they were oddly stiff and formal about it, but Harry would take anything that he could get. They weren’t arguing at all, which was horribly unsettling, instead maintaining a stiff, forced kind of formality, but even that was definitely much better than it was before.

“Care of Magical Creatures today.” Ron said, throwing his bag over one shoulder. “Should be fun, right?”

“Yeah.” Harry said, looking to Hermione in the hopes that this would be the last straw and that they’d finally go back to yelling at each other constantly.

But, much to his dismay, Hermione simply nodded. “Maybe the Skrewts will do us all a favor and go into hibernation.” She said, sounding oddly cheerful at the thought.

“Or maybe they’ll knock Malfoy out and he’ll go into hibernation.” Ron snorted. The thought of Malfoy being out of commission, even for about five minutes, got a laugh out of Harry. That would be ideal, but unfortunately, from what he understood, the Skrewts weren’t too interested in anything other than stinging people. “Then we wouldn’t have to deal with him.”  
Hermione’s only response was a slight smile and a nod, and Harry wanted to scream. If he could take back all the times he’d told them to shut up and stop arguing, he would. This was absolutely, positively the weirdest thing he’d ever seen, and he’d lived through Matt accidently turning a five year old Drew bright purple for a week.

“I’m dead and we’re in the Twilight Zone.” Harry muttered to himself, shaking his head, as they approached Hagrid’s hut. The class was assembled, but oddly enough, Hagrid wasn’t there. Harry looked around the group, hoping he just hadn’t spotted him, but it was awfully hard not to see someone as tall as Hagrid.

“Have you seen Hagrid?” Harry asked Parvati and Lavender, who were standing next to him.

Parvati hesitated for a moment. “Have you read the paper yet?”

Harry groaned. “What trash are they printing now?”

“Something actually worth reading, for once.” Harry turned to find Draco standing behind him, a victorious smirk stretching across his pasty face.

“I don’t even want to know what you consider worth reading.” Harry rolled his eyes.

Draco pulled a newspaper from inside his robe, waving it in Harry’s face. “He’s too ashamed to show his big, ugly face, I’d imagine.”

On the page Malfoy had opened the paper to was an article, topped with a picture of Hagrid looking rather nervous. It was titled “Dumbledore’s Giant Mistake”.

> _Albus Dumbledore, eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been afraid to make controversial staff appointments, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. In September of last year, he hired Remus Lupin- a known werewolf- to help teach Care of Magical Creatures, an ironic twist many concerned parents raised eyebrows at. Lupin, however, is not the only part-human Dumbledore has hired to teach Care of Magical Creatures. Rubeus Hagrid, who admits to being expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, has enjoyed the position of Gamekeeper at the school ever since, a job secured for him by Dumbledore._
> 
> _Last year, however, Hagrid used his mysterious influence over the headmaster to secure the additional post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher, over the heads of many better-qualified candidates. An alarming large and ferocious-looking man, Hagrid has been using his new-found authority to terrify the students in his care with a succession of horrific creatures. While Dumbledore turns a blind eye, Hagrid has maimed several pupils during a series of lessons that many admit to being "very frightening." "I was attacked by a hippogriff, and my friend Vincent Crabbe got a bad bite off a flobberworm," says Draco Malfoy, a fourth year student. "We all hate Hagrid, but we're just too scared to say anything." Hagrid has no intention of ceasing his campaign of intimidation, however._
> 
> _In conversation with a Daily Prophet reporter last month, he admitted breeding creatures he has dubbed "Blast-Ended Skrewts," highly dangerous crosses between manticores and fire crabs. The creation of new breeds of magical creature is, of course, an activity usually closely observed by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Hagrid, however, considers himself to be above such petty restrictions. "I was just having some fun," he says, before hastily changing the subject. As if this were not enough, the Daily Prophet has now unearthed evidence that Hagrid is not --- as he has always pretended --- a pure-blood wizard. He is not, in fact, even pure human. His mother, we can exclusively reveal, is none other than the giantess Fridwulfa, whose whereabouts are currently unknown._
> 
> _Bloodthirsty and brutal, the giants brought themselves to the point of extinction by warring amongst themselves during the last century. The handful that remained joined the ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and were responsible for some of the worst mass Muggle killings of his reign of terror. While many of the giants who served He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were killed by Aurors working against the Dark Side, Fridwulfa was not among them. It is possible she escaped to one of the giant communities still existing in foreign mountain ranges._
> 
> _If his antics during Care of Magical Creatures lessons are any guide, however, Fridwulfa's son appears to have inherited her brutal nature. In a bizarre twist, Hagrid is reputed to have developed a close friendship with the boy who brought around You-Know-Who's fall from power --- thereby driving Hagrid's own mother, like the rest of the Death Eaters, into hiding. Perhaps Harry Potter is unaware of this unpleasant truth about his large friend --- but Albus Dumbledore surely has a duty to ensure that Harry Potter, along with his fellow students, is warned about the dangers of associating with half-giants._

“Flobberworms don’t even have mouths!” Harry yelled, trying not to laugh from the absurdity of Crabbe’s claim. “How could you-- How could--” The laughter died in the face of the anger building in the pit of Harry’s stomach, and he turned to his friends, putting his back to Malfoy. “Hermione, Ron, come on. Hagrid needs us. If we leave before the substitute gets here, it’ll be like we never wasted our time on this.”

Ron nodded grimly, shooting Malfoy a scowl as the trio hurried towards Hagrid’s hut.

Hermione knocked on the door, frowning in concern when she received no response. “Hagrid?” She called out. “It’s us.”

All her efforts were met with was silence, and Harry nervously looked to Ron. Hagrid had been the target of the Daily Prophet’s ire before, but even in second year, he hadn’t just not opened the door.

“Hagrid!” Harry called out, slamming his fist against the door. “Open the door! Hagrid!”

“Hagrid, come on!” Ron reached out to knock as well. “Rita Skeeter’s a hag and we all know it!”

The door remained closed, and Harry sighed, stepping back.

“He’s not home.” He said glumly. “Maybe he’s left. What if Hagrid leaves Hogwarts forever?”

“I’m dropping Care of Magical Creatures, then.” Hermione said, a little too quickly for it to have been a spontaneous thought. Harry didn’t blame her. He enjoyed Care of Magical Creatures, but any teacher other than Hagrid would’ve had them raising Flobberworms all year. As annoying, dangerous and life threatening as the Skrewts were, at least they brightened up everyone’s weeks, even if it was with a trip to the hospital wing. “Who knows who’ll end up teaching it next?”

“Maybe I’ll do it.” Ron attempted to joke, but even his false cheer fell flat. “I could be a good teacher, I bet.”

“Where do you suppose we could find him?” Harry asked, stepping back from the hut. “Should we go find Professor Dumbledore? Or Professor McGonagall? Someone has to know what’s going on.”

“Maybe he needs some time to himself.” Ron looked to the door again. “Whenever Ginny gets upset, mum tells us to give her space to calm down, y’know?”

“Whenever one of my sisters gets upset, we usually start running.” Harry said, shrugging. The last time Sarah had gotten too upset, she’d retreated into her room for the better part of the afternoon, and made up for the time she’d missed out on by launching the most intense verbal attack a ten year old could manage on each of her siblings, save for Matt, at dinner. Anne made that look like a baby’s fumbling attempts at anger.

“What happens when your brothers get upset?” Hermione asked curiously.

“We hug Matt when he’s sad. I don’t remember the last time Drew was upset, really. He cried a lot when he was a baby though.” Harry frowned, shrugging. “Actually, that was Matt. My parents would call them by the wrong names a lot, when they were really little, so we don’t really know which one started out Drew and which one started out Matt anymore. Thankfully they’ve got personalities and stuff now, so it’s harder for our parents to mix them up these days.”

“That happened with Fred and George, too! Except they like it that way, I think, cause they think it’s funny when we can’t tell which one is which.” Ron’s amusement slowly turned into confusion. “Do you reckon they even know which one of them is which?”

“How did your parents not know which one of their kids was which?” Hermione frowned in confusion.

“I don’t know.” Harry shrugged. His parents had tried their best to hide it, but everyone knew they had no idea which of the boys was which. Harry, at the age of five, had been the only one to suggest a valid solution, something he lorded over them to this day. “Eventually we just wrote their initials on their hands in marker so we’d always know which one was which. That was my idea.”

“Once they got started talking, it was easy.” Ron told Hermione. “Matt is real shy, and Drew says what he’s thinking.”

“Mum says that’s Dad’s fault.” Harry spoke up, before looking thoughtful. “I guess I do that too.”

“He guesses.” Ron gave Hermione an exasperated look.

“He does a lot of guessing.” Hermione said, sighing as she shook her head.

“Where did we go wrong?” Ron sighed.

“Would you like a written summary?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve got one.”

“Do you really?”

“There’s a lot of ways to practice diligent note taking, Ron.” Hermione said, shaking her head. “We’ve just been given an easy way to do so.”

“Are you calling me a problem?” Harry piped up, pouting.

“I’m not calling you a problem.” Hermione said. “I’m just saying that you’ve caused a lot of trouble, and someday, having all of this dirt on you will be useful.”

“What’re you going to do, write a tell all article for the Prophet?” Harry snorted. “Harry Potter, widely considered the standard to beat between his dashing good looks and wildly successful Quidditch career, has not always been as perfect as he seems...”

“Hermione could beat Skeeter out of the job any day.” Ron shrugged.

“Even I could.” Harry chuckled. “And I’m the worst writer ever.”

“Even Ginny could!” Ron threw an arm into the air, getting incredibly excited about this. “She’d write Skeeter under the table!”

“Ginny couldn’t manage a desk job to save her life, mate.” Harry laughed. The thought of Ginny writing for the Prophet was absurd. She always needed to have her thoughts and opinions heard and respected, and she loved writing letters and stories and-- actually, upon further thought, Ginny would make a wonderful reporter. But Harry had committed to his stance already, so there was no going back. He’d just have to stand his ground. “You’re going to be wrong, this time, I can feel it.”

“And you’ll be right?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ve got a point.” Harry admitted, a little relieved that he wouldn’t have to hold that post. “I’m never right.”

Ron blinked. “What, and I am?”

* * *

 

“I’m glad it’s warm inside.” Harry said, rubbing his hands together. He’d tossed his gloves aside on the seat beside him, where they were currently soaking in a small puddle of water. That was a horrible idea, leaving them there, but Harry hadn’t thought of that, so any and all later suffering would be all his own fault. “Even bad weather can’t ruin Hosgmeade.”

“It does mean that we’ll have to spend much of it inside, though.” Hermione said, pausing to sip at her butterbeer afterward. “I don’t mind it. Beats another trip to Zonko’s.”

“Oh, come on. Zonko’s is great.” Ron argued, looking quite affronted.

“Cheer up, Ron. Maybe Fred and George’ll open a branch in Hogsmeade, and then Hermione’ll let us go if we promise to criticize their business practices.” Harry said, patting Ron’s back. “Look on the bright side.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Hermione said, nodding. “I suppose we should pay a visit, once they’ve opened up shop. Just to make sure they’re running things as smoothly as possible.”

“They’re gonna open the first store in Diagon Alley, if they can get the space.” Ron said, sipping at his butterbeer. “Dunno where the hell they think they’ll get the money, though.”

“It’s Fred and George.” Harry said, laughing. If Fred and George wanted something, they were bound to get it, some way or another. It was inevitable. Even Mrs. Weasley couldn’t stop it, not for lack of trying. “We won’t want to ask, when they have it.”

“True.” Ron agreed mildly. “I remember when we took that trip to Egypt and they ended up with that weird necklace. Mum was convinced it was cursed. Dunno what they ever did with it.”

“What did the necklace do?” Hermione asked, looking very unsure about whether she wanted to hear the answer.

“All sorts of weird stuff.” Ron shrugged. “Percy was convinced there was someone hiding out in Charlie’s old room after they brought it back home.”

“Speaking of horror stories.” Harry said brightly, after casting a quick glance over her shoulder toward the door. A short, blonde witch had just walked into the Three Broomsticks, haughtily scanning the room as if she thought she was better than everyone else. And, Harry thought, Rita Skeeter probably did, despite the fact that Sarah, who hadn’t even gone to Hogwarts yet, regularly found spelling mistakes in her writing. “You’ll never believe who’s just walked in.”

“Who?” Ron asked, peering over his friend’s shoulder.

Hermione looked toward the door, frowning deeply once she spotted who Harry had been looking at. “Rita Skeeter.”

“I’m going to fight her.” Ron said seriously.

“Me first.” Harry said, cracking his knuckles.

“You’re both forgetting something.” Hermione said darkly.

“What?” Harry asked.

“I’m first.” She said seriously, before moving to get up. Thankfully, or perhaps unfortunately, Rita Skeeter had spotted them, and was making a beeline for their table. Hermione tried to smile, but failed miserably.

“You’re Harry Potter, aren’t you?” She ignored Hermione entirely, turning watery blue eyes on Harry.

“Yeah.” Harry said, shrugging. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“He doesn’t want to talk to you.” Hermione said, fighting to keep the anger out of her voice as she addressed Rita. “You’ve spread all sorts of horrible lies about Hagrid, who’s neither dangerous nor a bad teacher.”

“Our readers have a right to the truth.” She brushed Hermione’s anger aside with a flick of her hot pink nails. “Unless you’d like to give me an interview about the real Rubeus Hagrid? Your… unlikely friendship with him?”

“I’d rather not give you anything, thanks.” Harry said, keeping his voice as even as possible, crossing his arms. “Hagrid’s one of the best people I know, and everyone who actually knows him is well aware of that.”

Rita pulled out a quill, lips stretched into a smile. “Is that so? And you are, of course, aware of his past wrongdoings?”

“Why don’t you shut your trap?” Ron snapped, scowling up at her. “He said he doesn’t want to do an interview, so go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”

Harry very much wanted to give Rita a piece of his mind, but he was well aware that it wouldn’t be the right choice. If it were only his reputation at stake, he would’ve reminded her that her sources were all rich, Pureblood Slytherins, who were notorious for hating everything that they hadn’t put their money into, but Hagrid’s reputation, as well as his safety and job, were at stake as well. And Harry knew he couldn’t live with the fact that he had gotten Hagrid fired from the job he loved so much.

“Well, perhaps you’d like to give a comment for my next column, then?” Rita swept her disapproving gaze down over Ron’s hand-me-down robes, causing his ears to turn red.

“Maybe your next column could be an admission to the harm that discrimination causes.” Hermione said, voice heavy with bitterness. “You can cite your last article as an example.”

“Sit down, you silly little girl, and don’t talk about things you don’t understand.” Rita pursed her lips, her eyes going cold. “I know things about Rubeus Hagrid that would make your hair curl… not that it needs it.” She added, eyeing Hermione’s bushy hair.

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Harry said angrily, standing up from his seat. How dare Rita behave like that? He should’ve seen it coming, judging by the discriminatory tripe her article had been full of, but to say something like that to a kid? And Hermione was a kid-- she was barely fifteen, and that was still two years off from seventeen. Only the most despicable of people would do that. “Don’t you say a word against Hermione.”

Hermione looked shocked, for a second, as if she hadn’t been expecting it, but then stood up beside Harry, looking just as enraged. Ron had gotten to his feet as well, abandoning their half-empty cups on the table.

“You’re a hag.” He told Rita, pushing past her and marching for the door.

Harry glared at Rita Skeeter, reaching over to grab his now soaking wet gloves before he and Hermione made for the door as well, following Ron out into the snow. Harry tugged his gloves on, grimacing, before shoving his hands into the warm pockets of his coat.

Ron stood outside the door, stamping his feet in the snow in irritation as he mumbled to himself. “Sorry. I couldn’t stand looking at her anymore.” He grumbled.

“It’s alright.” Hermione said, quieter than usual. “Neither of us could either.”

“Hard to stand people like that.” Harry said solemnly, motioning to Ron and Hermione to follow as he began the walk back to Hogwarts. No sense in staying somewhere where Rita could find them again. Hermione seemed to realize what Harry was going for, or, more likely, had had the same idea herself, and they started down the path back to the school.

Ron tromped after them, throwing an empty scowl over his shoulder. “Where does she get off saying rubbish like that? Your hair is perfectly fine, Hermione. She’s just jealous cause she reeks of hair dye.”

“It’s not just that, Ron.” Hermione said, sighing. “It’s never really just that, with those kind of people.”

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“Think about it. The way my hair looks is very different from yours. Sets me apart quite obviously. Of course she’d pick at that in an effort to get a reaction out of me. Once she’d gotten something that confirmed what she thought of me to begin with, she would’ve spread it so others could use it to confirm their beliefs.” Hermione said, shrugging. She exuded an air of tiredness, every movement a little slower and less sharp than usual, and Harry understood. He felt the same way himself, much of the time. That kind of tiredness was hard to shake, and Ron wouldn’t ever understand how deep it reached. “It wasn’t just her being rude.”

“Like how my aunt’s hair is curly, but not like yours is?” Ron seemed to be attempting to find a suitable comparison, gesturing towards Hermione’s bushy hair. “It’s different.”

“Not nearly the same thing, but you’ve noticed how people always make a big deal about my eyes, right?” Harry asked, looking to Ron, who nodded. “They’re always going on about me having Mum’s eyes. They never just say green eyes, they always say they’re Mum’s, like they can’t believe it could’ve come from dad’s side of the family. People always dwell on it, like it’s the only part of me worth noticing, because it’s not exactly like my dad.”

Ron nodded again, scratching at his ear. “Cause your mum is white, but your dad is Indian.” He said, looking to Harry for confirmation.

“Right.” Harry nodded. “And I’m half of each, so they try to tie me to her as strongly as they can. Since that’s the better half, and all.” The last sentence was filled with a bitterness Ron had never heard from Harry before, and it left him looking caught between sympathy and surprise, which resulted in one of the oddest expressions Harry had ever seen on Ron’s face.

“Do you reckon she’s still at the Three Broomsticks?” Ron asked, pausing to look back the way they had come. “And would I get expelled for hexing her?”

“Yes, and yes.” Hermione said, sighing. “Hagrid needs us more than she needs to be hexed.”

“You’re right. He does.” Harry said, nodding. Hagrid did need them, and Harry, better than anyone else, knew how Hagrid was feeling. Being caught between two radically different parts of yourself was a strange thing, and trying to bridge the distance between two distinct identities was hard enough without others getting involved.

The trio trudged through the snow toward Hagrid’s hut, Harry running up ahead to knock on the door once it was in sight.

“Hagrid?” He called out, knocking again. “Hagrid, open up! It’s us!”

Surprisingly, the door swung open almost immediately. It was not, however, Hagrid’s face that greeted them, but rather the twinkling eyes of Albus Dumbledore. “Ah, I was expecting you to come around.” He smiled. “Come in, please.”

Harry nodded slowly, trooping into the house. Ron and Hermione were close behind him, and all of their faces lit up when they spotted Hagrid, looking tired, but undeniably there.

“It seems you have some visitors.” Dumbledore twirled his wand through the air as he approached the table where Hagrid was seated. A tea tray floated closer, filled with small cakes and a steaming pot. “I’m sure they’ve missed you.”

“We did.” Harry spoke up, rushing over to Hagrid’s side. “Class has been horrible.”

“The substitute showed us a unicorn.” Ron said, looking absolutely betrayed.

“And it didn’t like me.” Harry said, feigning horror. Hagrid chuckled, shaking his head. “Can you believe it?”

“I can’t believe it.” Hagrid said. “Somethin’ not likin’ our Harry?”

“Plenty of things don’t like Harry.” Hermione said, frowning.

“Hermione has a point.” Harry said, sighing exasperatedly.

“I don’t even think his siblings like him, most of the time.” Ron agreed.

“It’s exactly as I told you, Hagrid.” Dumbledore said kindly. “No one dislikes you, now. I’ve already shown you the letters from countless parents who remember you from their time as students. I urge you to return to your teaching position.”

“You’re one of the best teachers we’ve had, Hagrid.” Harry said earnestly. “And we’ve had some weird teachers. No offense, Professor Dumbledore. I guess they were probably alright when you hired them.”

“I’ve gone temporarily deaf and haven’t heard a word you said.” Dumbledore smiled.

“Really, though.” Hermione said, joining Harry by Hagrid’s side. “We do want you back. It doesn’t matter what they think. Rita Skeeter’s a dirty, manipulative liar anyway.”

“Besides, the only thing bigger than you is how much we love you.” Harry said cheerfully, obviously having thought about that line for much longer than he was willing to let on.

“That’s sweet, Harry.” Hagrid said, smiling.

“So you’ll come back, right? Cause we don’t care if you’re half-giant.” Ron said.

“Yeh’re all a special sort.” Hagrid said mournfully, smile slipping from his face. “Yeh say some of the parents want me back, but for every one that does, there are six that don’t.”

“Yeah, well, family shouldn’t matter.” Harry said, frowning. “Everyone thought I sucked because of mine second year, and you told me that it didn’t matter then, so if it didn’t matter for me, it shouldn’t matter for you too.”

“I’m afraid we all have a family member or two that we’d rather do without.” Dumbledore said sagely. “Why, my brother Aberforth was once in the papers for practicing inappropriate charms on a goat. Did he mind? Certainly not. He went about his business with his chin held high. Though I’m not entirely sure he can read, to begin with.”

“I’m related to Percy.” Ron said flatly.

“If who my parents are doesn’t matter, then who your parents are shouldn’t either.” Hermione said, nodding decisively. “You can’t just tell us stuff like that and then not apply it to yourself.”

“I won’t be accepting your resignation, Hagrid.” Dumbledore got to his feet, moving towards the door. “I expect to see you in the Great Hall for breakfast tomorrow, at eight o’clock exactly.” And, with that, he left.

“You can’t leave, Hagrid.” Harry said, trying to sound as sincere as possible. “You’re an amazing teacher, and that has nothing to do with who your parents are. I mean, look at Trelawney! You’re way better than her!”

“Yeh don’ have to badmouth other professors ter make me feel better, Harry.” Hagrid said, although he looked a little happier for having heard it.

“He has a point, though.” Ron winced. “Trelawney is a crazy old bat.”

“That’s a little harsh.” Harry said, shrugging. “She’s a horrid teacher. You’re not. So you should come back to balance out the damage she’s doing to our delicate little brains.”

“I’m so glad I’m not in Divination anymore.” Hermione muttered.

“But you’re real happy to still be in Care of Magical Creatures.” Ron nudged her with his elbow.

“Aren’t we all?” Hermione asked, as if it were obvious.

“Yeh’re all too good ter me.” Hagrid said, rubbing at his eyes with a large hand.

“Yeah, well, you deserve our best.” Harry said, nodding resolutely. “Wanna talk about it? Your parents, I mean. I used to do that back in primary, when people would make fun of me about them. Thinking about the good things, I mean.”

“I dunno much abou’ me mum.” Hagrid said, after a moment’s pause to collect his thoughts. “She left us, when I was abou’ three, ter go back ter the giant colony. Meself and me dad, we got along jus’ fine without her.” A note of fondness crept into Hagrid’s voice at the mention of his father. “Tiny little man, he was-- I was taller than ‘im by the time I was six. I used ter pick ‘im up and set ‘im on top of the dresser, when I was mad.”

“Wish I could just put my dad down on top of a dresser.” Harry said, grinning. “That sounds real useful.”

“It really was.” Hagrid said fondly, shaking his head. “He passed when I was a second year.”

“I’m sorry, Hagrid.” Ron said with a sympathetic frown. “It must’ve been hard.”

“Least he never found out abou’ what happened.” Hagrid said, sighing. “With the Chamber.”

“Bet he wouldn’t have believed them.” Harry spoke up. “If he was anything like you, he probably would’ve fought the Headmaster.”

“He would’ve.” Hagrid said, the fondness returning to his voice. “He was so proud, when I got sorted into Gryffindor. Kept tellin’ me I was gonna be a great wizard, someday.”

“And you are.” Hermione said.

“Who else could raise a baby dragon in a hut?” Ron smiled. “Or train a three headed dog.”

Hagrid went to speak, and Harry cut him off.

“That’s right.” Harry said. “Nobody.”

“So the best wizard to teach us is obviously you.” Ron said, patting his hand against Hagrid’s arm. “Right?”

“I guess so.” Hagrid said, after a pause to think.

“There we go!” Harry said cheerfully. “That’s the spirit!”

“So we’ll see you in class, then?” Hermione asked eagerly, and Hagrid wiped his eyes again before nodding.

Harry whooped happily, throwing his arms around Hagrid. His arms barely fit a third of the way around the man, but no one could fault Harry for not trying. “Yes! Finally!”

Ron crowded in as well, attempting and failing to wrap his arms all the way around Hagrid.

Hermione joined the boys in the hug, doing her best to help the cause. “It’ll be good, to have you back.”

“It’ll be good to be back.” Hagrid said, actually sounding excited about it.

“Everyone wins!” Harry declared.


	12. The Second Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss… Ron-- I think-- Hermione’s in there.” Harry stepped backward, his calves connecting with the wood of the bleachers hard. He hardly felt it though, because he was more occupied with something else-- Hermione was in the lake. Hermione, his friend, was in the lake.
> 
> “She can’t swim.” Ron had gone pale beneath his freckles. He gripped the railing separating them from the edge of the platform tightly, as though he were going to jump in himself. “Hermione can’t swim.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We took two weeks off to rest a little, and now we're back, with a chapter that takes us over the 50k mark for One Good Year! There are four more chapters left in OGY after this, and then we'll open with Book 5 in mid February! Big things are coming from the two of us, over the next few months, and I hope you all enjoy reading them as much we've enjoyed writing and planning them!
> 
> Thanks for sticking with us through the break, and hopefully, at the end of this year, we'll be able to say that this chapter was a good start and all the following ones were even better!
> 
> -S&L

Harry thundered down the main stairs, jogging over to Neville, who was waiting patiently near the double doors of the Entrance Hall. He was five minutes late, already, and he’d only made it this quickly because he’d just pulled the first set of clothes he saw on, brushed his teeth, and charged down the stairs at full tilt. Now, he was realizing, as he looked down at pink socks that were definitely not his, thankfully mostly hidden behind his shoes, that maybe that hadn’t been the right idea.

“Ready to go, Nev?” He asked, trying to hide the fact that he was out of breath. They better bring Quidditch back next year, Harry thought.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” For someone who wasn’t participating, Neville looked quite nervous about the upcoming task. But then again, Harry thought, this task did sound like the sort of thing to be nervous about. All they’d been told was that it would take place in the Black Lake, and the Black Lake wasn’t the friendliest place to go swimming, let alone the fact that it was miserably cold year round. Harry had it on his father’s authority that the squid wasn’t nearly as bad as everyone made him out to be, but everyone knew the squid wasn’t the most dangerous of the creatures living in the lake by far. If rumors were to be believed, there were even mermaids at the bottom of the lake, and mermaids were legendary for their bad tempers.

“I hope it won’t be too scary.” Harry said, as they walked through the open doors and down to the lake. It was awfully cold, as it usually was in the middle of February in Scotland, and Harry was suddenly more aware than he’d like that he’d forgotten his gloves. He knew right where they were too-- he'd left them sitting right on top of his trunk, just so he wouldn't forget them before the task. And yet, apparently, no amount of preparation could save him from himself. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat, frowning. Great. Now he’d get frostbite on top of everything else. “I mean, Ron’s gone ahead to get us spots as close to the action as possible, so being close up would make something downright terrifying look even worse. I’d rather not piss my pants in public if I don’t have to.”

“Sounds like a good rule to live by.” Neville managed a nervous smile, before frowning thoughtfully. Harry tried his best not to stare, resolutely looking in the opposite direction. ”Can you swim?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, looking back to Neville as he frowned in confusion. Of course he could swim. He and Neville had learned how within months of each other, as kids, although one of them had been largely more successful than the other. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“D’you suppose any of the champions can’t?” Neville asked, before looking as if he highly regretted asking the question.

Harry stopped in his tracks-- he hadn’t thought about that possibility at all. What if one of the champions couldn’t swim? If the task was taking place in the lake, swimming would probably be a major part of it. And if they couldn’t swim, they’d forfeit the task, and they’d automatically sink to last place. And last place was the best possible option, because it assumed nobody would drown while competing. Although, Harry supposed, they would just sink to last place a little more literally if they did.

“Well, uh, I hope not.” He managed, snapping out of his thoughts to spot Neville staring at him, looking quite concerned. “That would be horrible. Especially with the task being in the lake. Can you imagine not being able to swim and being forced into there?” Harry winced. “Yuck.”

“I’d rather eat Stinksap.” Neville said, pulling a face. He looked rather nauseous, now that Harry thought about it, and that was probably because he knew what Stinksap tasted like.

They trudged on through the snow in silence, before Harry caught sight of a familiar mop of red hair. Ron, who was waving at them, was standing at the edge of a floating, three-story platform. He was roped off from the section that Harry assumed was reserved for the champions, but rather close all the same.

“That’ll be Ron, then.” Harry said cheerfully. “Let’s get up there quick, before someone pushes him into the lake.”

“Ron can’t swim.” Neville said hesitantly, looking quite worried for Ron. Fred and George were on either side of Ron, jostling him back and forth between them, which meant that him getting pushed into the lake was less of an if and more of a when. And, having known Fred and George for as long as he had, Harry was sure it would be far sooner than they’d like.

“Then we’ll rescue him.” Harry shrugged, grinning at Neville. “Can’t just leave Ron there. What would we do without him?”

Neville frowned again, obviously deep in thought, and Harry tried to keep himself from staring again. Harry had always found the way Neville looked when deep in thought cute, and although this staring thing certainly wasn’t new, it was now infinitely more dangerous now that Neville knew he was doing it. That would be bad, if Neville noticed. By the look in his eyes, Neville had, but Harry was just going to ignore that until it went away. That problem solving technique had done wonders for him in the past, and it had better work now.

“Have you seen Hermione?” Ron looked grateful to break away from his brothers. He looked over the crowd behind Neville and Harry hopefully, as if expecting to see her there, but didn’t spot her among the students. His shoulders slumped slightly, at first, but he straightened back up as soon as he noticed the difference. “I saved her a spot, but she hasn’t shown up yet.”

“Not since last night, no.” Harry frowned, scanning the crowd. No sign of Hermione. She’d been so excited about the second task last night, so it was odd to think that she would’ve missed out on it. Harry couldn’t remember seeing her after dinner, but that was because he and Ron had “gone to bed early”-- Dean and Seamus had somehow come into possession of a box of Fred and George’s trick sweets, and they’d had a wild night testing them out on each other. It was, on the whole, much more interesting than what they’d had planned before, which was a typical night of studying with Hermione. “Do you think she’s been kidnapped?”

“Maybe she just decided to stay in and study?” Neville suggested, sounding hopeful. “It’s pretty cold, and we’ve got a round of exams coming up soon. I don’t see how I’m going to pass the Potions one...”

“Don’t worry, we’ll all fail together.” Ron waved the idea away, obviously more concerned with Hermione’s absence. “If she were studying, we’d have seen her in the common room. It isn’t like her to stay in the dorms all day.”

“She wouldn’t. At least not while Parvati and Lavender are in there, and I have it on good authority that they’re skipping the task.” Harry said, grimacing.

Since the Yule Ball, Parvati and Lavender had been even more inseparable than before, constantly holding hands and whispering to each other, although they occasionally stopped whispering to giggle uncontrollably. No one had said the word “girlfriend”, from what Harry knew, but everyone in Gryffindor Tower knew full well that they were dating.

Parvati had asked Harry to report the scores of the task back, as quickly as possible, and he was determined to not do so, at any cost to his own safety. It was her own fault, for choosing time with her girlfriend over what was likely going to be the coolest sporting event ever, and she’d have to wait just like everyone else who didn’t show up.

Harry grinned smugly. He’d won on both fronts-- he’d be getting time with Neville and would be seeing the second task play out. Parvati didn’t have anything on him, no matter what she said about being cooler than him. She’d have to take it back now, too! Maybe he’d get her to do it in public too.

“If she wasn’t in the common room…” Neville said quietly, frowning, but trailed off rather than offering any new suggestions.

Luckily, before they could dwell more, Dumbledore spoke from the front of the platform, voice magically enhanced so that all the students could hear it.

“Hello, students, visitors and staff!” His voice echoed across the platform, causing a wave of excited silence to fall across the crowd. “Today is the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. As many of you know, our three champions stepped away from the first task with a golden egg. That golden egg was no ordinary golden egg-- it contained a clue. If you please…”

A witch stepped up beside Dumbledore, clearing her throat. A moment later she sang a rather plain melody, though the words were far more interesting.

 _“Come seek us where our voices sound,_  
We cannot sing above the ground,  
And while you're searching ponder this;  
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,  
An hour long you'll have to look,  
And to recover what we took,  
But past an hour, the prospect's black,  
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.” 

“An hour is on the clock, champions. Feel free to leave at the sound of the starting signal.” Dumbledore said cheerily, as Filch signaled to start far too early.

Harry looked to Ron, who looked as if he were about to projectile vomit his breakfast straight into the lake, as the champions, having cast their various enchantments to ensure survival in the lake, dove off the platform.

“We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss… Ron-- I think-- Hermione’s in there.” Harry stepped backward, his calves connecting with the wood of the bleachers hard. He hardly felt it though, because he was more occupied with something else-- Hermione was in the lake. Hermione, his friend, was in the lake.

“She can’t swim.” Ron had gone pale beneath his freckles. He gripped the railing separating them from the edge of the platform tightly, as though he were going to jump in himself. “Hermione can’t swim.”

“If she can’t swim that’s-- that’s not safe!” Harry barely heard Neville’s voice over the sound of his heartbeat. The lake had to be at least half a mile deep. How deep was it? Maybe he should’ve read Hogwarts, A History when Hermione had told him to, first year. It would’ve saved him so much trouble. All his thoughts rushed together, like colors blending erratically in his head, and Harry wondered if it looked anything like the latest “drawing” by Anne his father had pinned up on his office wall.

His heart thumped like a drum, blood rushing in his ears so loudly that Harry thought his heart had climbed right up into his head and making a home there.

Ron looked green. Harry couldn’t blame him-- he certainly felt the same way. Hermione couldn’t swim. And she was down there. How long would the enchantment last? If Viktor Krum took longer than an hour to get to her, that was it.

No. No that couldn't be it. They wouldn't. Dumbledore wouldn’t leave anyone for dead, especially those who hadn’t volunteered themselves for the tournament. Wait. No. He definitely would. Now Harry really wanted to hurl.

He felt like his limbs were full of cement, like they were weighing him down, pulling him down into the ground. Maybe he would grow roots. Neville liked plants, and they had roots. He couldn’t keep his thoughts in one place, despite his best efforts-- maybe his brain, which felt like it’d turned into a lumpy, soupy mess inside his head, was truly dripping out his ears. That would be extremely helpful, considering there was a Potions exam coming up that he’d been very resolutely not studying for.

Ron seemed to be hyperventilating beside him, his words coming out in a breathless rush. “She has to be fine. Hermione is always fine. In-- in first year she... We got past Fluffy and the plants and the keys and the chess. If anyone can get out it’s Hermione.” He sucked in a rattling breath, looking torn between panic and anger. “Krum dragged her into this. She had nothing to do… he had no right….”

In the end, it was a combination of careful breathing regulation and Neville’s hand rubbing back and forth along Harry’s upper arm that brought him back to himself, and Harry cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders to try and get a feel for everything again. He turned to his right, only now noticing he’d been guided into a sitting position, to see a relieved looking Neville sitting beside him.

Ron was a constant presence on his other side, and Harry found it funny that, after all these years of friendship, he could tell that Ron was beside him simply from the feel of the arm pressed against his. He could do the same with Hermione, but Hermione was under the lake. He couldn’t feel Hermione from that far away. Was she okay? Were the creatures in the lake attacking her?

Harry wished, for one split second, that he was a champion, and could sort all of this out himself. But, quickly enough, he realized that would be far more trouble than it was worth.

“She’ll be alright.” Neville whispered into Harry’s ear, and Harry was suddenly acutely aware of the way Neville’s face was pressed up against his own. It was equal parts comforting and embarrassing, and he was thankful that his father had at least saved him from the embarrassment of being able to visibly blush, because Harry was sure he would currently resemble a tomato, otherwise, like Anne did when she got too angry. “Ron’s right-- if anyone could solve it themselves, it’s Hermione. And Krum’s not that bad-- he wasn’t too much slower than Delacour in the first task, and she barely took any time at all.”

Within minutes, Harry realized that Parvati and Lavender might have had the right idea after all. Were they supposed to sit here for an hour, watching the rippling surface of the lake, and not worry about the friends and classmates who lay at the bottom, waiting to be saved by the champions? How could anyone else just sit here watching? Harry was itching to do something, itching to help, but everyone else around him seemed to be content to wait, if not bored by waiting.

“So-- So that’s just it?” Harry asked, looking to Ron, who looked far too focused on the surface of the water. “Do we just wait for something to happen?”

“Who thought this was a spectator tournament?” Ron mumbled in response.

“The first task was dangerous, but we could still watch it. This task is dangerous and we can’t watch it. How can they get worse from here?” Neville mumbled, shuffling closer to Harry. Harry pulled his arm out from between them, wrapping it around Neville’s shoulders to offer some semblance of comfort. From the way Neville leaned into him, it was obvious that the effort was appreciated.

“It’s Hogwarts. It only gets worse.” Harry said dryly, feeling strangely resigned. The three previous years had followed the same trend-- slightly ridiculous danger lead to life threatening situations, which lead to confrontation with an evil person, usually Voldemort. If this year was as formulaic as the last few, Voldemort should be making an appearance within the next few months.

“You’re right. At this rate, we’ll have a run-in with Voldemort before the year is up. I give him a few months at most.” Ron sighed.

“I literally just thought that.” Harry said, slightly awestruck. Despite the subject matter, Ron had practically just quoted Harry’s thoughts. “You pulled the words right out of my head. Next time you’re doing that though, pick better words.”

“I’m a bloody seer.” What normally would be said with a cheeky grin was delivered with a heavy sigh, as Ron had yet to look away from the lake. “Someone tell Trelawney I can take over her position.”

“I’d probably save you, if I was a champion.” Harry blurted out, before looking sheepishly over at Neville, who didn’t seem to mind one bit. When Harry looked over to Ron, he was pleased to see his friend grinning.

“Sorry, Nev.” Ron threw an arm around Harry. “Mates before dates. I don’t make the rules.”

The clock struck, marking the end of the one hour time limit, and Harry’s chest felt like it was tightening, like he was far too big for his skin, and he wanted to breathe, but it felt like his throat had been sealed shut. The hour was up. Hermione would be gone forever, wouldn’t she? That’s what the poem said.

Suddenly, Cedric Diggory, with Cho Chang held tightly in his arms, broke the surface of the lake, a Bubble Head Charm making him look like an astronaut who’d forgotten to take all of his gear off. They were quickly helped out of the lake, and teachers wrapped towels around both Cedric and Cho, who were shivering violently.

“Two more to go.” Neville spoke up, trying to look hopeful. Harry could tell he was quite pleased that Cedric had come first-- he was from Neville’s house, on top of being the Hogwarts champion, so of course Neville would be doubly proud. Harry’s limbs felt like lead, and he felt like everything inside him had been drained out and replaced with sludge. Maybe he’d be more enthusiastic about a Hogwarts win later, when Hermione was returned to them safely. When, not if. “Everyone else shouldn’t be long now, if Diggory’s made it.”

As Neville had predicted, within minutes, another pair surfaced, and Harry recognized the bushy brown hair of the smaller figure in an instant, immediately getting to his feet. He barely had to look at Ron before they both began running for the gap in the railing, that would lead them to where the champions were, Neville right behind them. They reached Hermione just as she’d finished getting fussed over by Madam Pomfrey, who was doling out towels and Warming Charms to those who had been in the lake.

“Hermione!” Ron launched himself at her, barely giving the girl a moment to catch her breath before he was squeezing the life out of her. “You gave us a heart attack!”

“You’re safe!” Harry said, voice cracking slightly. It felt like the leaden feeling in his limbs had melted right away at the sight of Hermione, who was soaking wet but unharmed, and he hugged her as tightly as he could as soon as Ron had stepped back, not caring that now, both the towel and his clothes were soaked. He could hear Madam Pomfrey expressing her disapproval in the background, muttering about him catching a cold, but he’d much rather have physical proof of one of his best friend’s safety than not. He’d take on any cold for Hermione, no matter how nasty. As he drew back, holding Hermione at arm’s length, he caught sight of something truly strange behind her.

“Who’s the wereshark?” Harry asked, wondering if he was seeing things. A shark head on a person? Now that he thought about it, the milk had looked kind of funny at breakfast. “Are weresharks a thing?”

Ron groaned. “That’s Viktor, you dummy.”

“Ingenious, in my opinion.” Hermione said, waving at the shark, who shyly waved back. Harry noticed, then, that the wereshark was standing beside Durmstrang’s headmaster. That was Viktor, alright. Good for him. “Partial transfiguration was a really interesting solution to the problem-- it gave him the gills to breathe underwater, but without changing the parts of his body he knew how to use.”

It was in that moment that Harry noticed a cluster of adults standing near the edge of the lake. Dumbledore and Madame Maxime were among them, and they all seemed to be whispering to each other. Before he could point this out to his friends, there was another loud splash as two blondes crashed through the surface of the lake.

Fleur Delacour was gasping for breath, flailing one arm through the water as she attempted to drag a young girl, who was hardly ten years old, towards the platform. Her blonde hair clung to her face, which was pale enough to show long, red lines that extended down her cheek. The little girl clung to Fleur, shivering violently, and eventually, the two made their way to the platform.

They were both helped from the lake, and eventually lost in the small crowd of people.

The next thing he knew, Dumbledore’s voice was booming across the crowd once more. “Now that our champions have all returned, it is time to award points.” He announced. “In first place, Cedric Diggory with forty-seven points. He has been docked three points due to returning one minute past the time limit. In second, Viktor Krum, who receives forty points for being late, and returning second. And lastly, Fleur Delacour, in third place, who will be receiving thirty points. The final task will take place on the twenty fourth of June. Our champions will be given more information a month in advance.”

“Hey, maybe there’ll be no hostages in that one!” Harry joked weakly, as the group began their long walk back up to the castle.

“Maybe you’ll be the hostage next time.” Ron reached out to lightly punch Harry’s arm.

“Better look out for myself.” Harry grinned jovially. “I might even get kidnapped.”


	13. Oops, Seamus Did It Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Our OWLs, Professor. Ordinary Wizarding Levels.” Hermione spoke up, smiling. The rest of the class was not smiling-- in fact, their reaction was so far from smiling that Hermione stood out like a sore thumb. Thankfully, Harry thought, looking over at Ron, who was obviously trying to look as bald as his father, with all the hair pulling he was doing, at least one of his friends felt the same way he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We figured that, after all the tension of last week, we should give these kids a bit of a break. So here it is, the sort of, kind of break chapter, because even when you need a break, school has a nasty tendency of getting in the way. Hopefully the next few weeks will bring better news for our little heroes-- it is, after all, their One Good Year.
> 
> -S&L
> 
> PS: To any other Tamilian kids reading, pongal nalvazhthukkal. My gift to Harry was to keep him out of trouble this week! -S

“Alright, kids, I hate to be the one to bring this up, because I know it’s everyone’s least favorite topic, but someone’s got to do it.” James Potter said, rolling the piece of chalk he was holding between his thumb and forefinger before turning to the board and beginning to write. Once the ‘x’ was on the board, Harry, although he definitely didn’t want to, knew what was coming. He groaned, slamming his head against his desk, hoping he was wrong. There were tons of words that started with “ex”-- examples, expectations, exceptions. All better than-- “Exams. This year’s final exams are going to be in a few weeks, right before the third task, but there’s a even bigger set of exams coming up that you have to prepare for.”

That sent murmurs of confusion racing through the class, and everyone other than Hermione, who raised her hand smugly, looked quite baffled. What else could be coming? Who would assign them more exams when they already had so many? Ron was already attempting to tear his hair out at the mere mention of more testing.

“Our OWLs, Professor. Ordinary Wizarding Levels.” Hermione spoke up, smiling. The rest of the class was not smiling-- in fact, their reaction was so far from smiling that Hermione stood out like a sore thumb. Thankfully, Harry thought, looking over at Ron, who was obviously trying to look as bald as his father, with all the hair pulling he was doing, at least one of his friends felt the same way he did. “Although they’re still a year off, we should be preparing already. We do have to have five years of material ready, written and practical, for every subject, because the test could cover any topic.”

“Absolutely correct, Miss Granger.” James grinned, pointing his piece of chalk at Hermione. Hermione seemed even more thrilled to have gotten a teacher’s approval, and Harry rolled his eyes. Yeah, her advice made sense for people who loved reading and didn’t see any problem devoting their whole lives to exam study, but what about people like Harry, who had other things to do? “Fifteen points to Gryffindor for a well thought out answer, and advice the rest of you should be taking.”

Harry sighed in relief. At least her response had gotten them points, even if it did mean Hermione was likely to force Ron and Harry to start revising tonight. Points were something Gryffindor sorely needed, as Harry wasn’t sure the House Cup was anything more than an afterthought in anyone’s minds this year, because of the tournament, and without the usual safety net of Quidditch wins, Gryffindor wasn’t doing too well. Thank god Oliver had graduated last year, Harry thought, because he wouldn’t have survived a year without Quidditch, Triwizard Tournament or not.

Draco muttered something about biased professors. Crabbe and Goyle agreed mindlessly, obviously having forgotten about Snape’s blatantly obvious bias toward the Slytherins.

“If you start preparing ahead of time, then you’re more likely to remember the information on the day of.” Another voice spoke up, from the back of the room, and everyone quickly turned toward the Slytherin side of the classroom to see Theodore Nott blushing bright red, hanging his head in embarrassment.

Nott, who was just as thin and scared looking as always, although a fair bit taller than he had been last year, had busied himself in making a sincere effort to melt directly into the floor in order to avoid attracting further attention. As he should, considering Malfoy and his cronies were jeering and making faces in reaction to his comment. Maybe, Harry thought, he should introduce Matt to him, once Matt came to Hogwarts, as it seemed he and Nott would be excellent friends just by similarity of character.

“That’s a very good point, Mister Nott. Fifteen to Slytherin as well, for solid advice.” James said, before dropping the piece of chalk on his desk and surveying the classroom. Even Malfoy’s mutterings about unfairness had stopped, likely in surprise, at the awarding of points to Slytherin. “Now, the first step to doing well on your exams is review, and starting to revise the material early, so let’s think about what we’ve done that you think will show up on the Defense final exam. If you focus on getting a handle on fourth year now, you’ll have to spend less time on it later.”

Harry raised his hand, and spoke as soon as his father nodded in his direction. “Counter spells.”

He knew counter spells, beside being the main focus of Defense this year, were also a significant part of his father’s favorite part of defense-- duelling. From what Uncle Sirius had said, his father had excelled at duelling while at Hogwarts, and had been a bit of an experimenter, with regard to hexes and jinxes, as well as defending against them. And, if his father enjoyed it, it was bound to be on their exam. On top of that, they’d spent nearly the whole year carefully going over both the theory and practice of counter spells, so that meant they’d likely be on the Defense OWL as well.

One point to Harry, Harry thought, smiling to himself, zero to the world.

“Lucky guess.” James said, winking at Harry, before snatching up the piece of chalk and writing it on the board. Harry could hear several of the Slytherins muttering that he must’ve gotten the information by spying on his father, and Harry rolled his eyes. Really, if he wanted something interesting to do, and actually had free time to do it, he would most definitely not spy on James Potter, because that would be so boring that he’d likely drop dead. He knew for a fact that his father actually enjoyed doing the crossword for fun. Yuck. “Any other thoughts?”

“Hex deflection.” Parvati Patil spoke up, from the desk next to Harry and Ron’s, and James nodded, writing that down on the board as well.

“Take that, Potter. Who’s the top student now?” She muttered, leaning into the aisle between their desks, and Harry slid down in his seat in order to get his leg far out enough to squish her foot with his. Parvati glared at him as he straightened up, smiling innocently at her before turning back toward the front of the class. “You immature little--”

“Believe me”, James said loudly, “if you think I’m not going easy on you, and I know for certain that some of you do, the OWLs are going to be a whole new level of difficulty. Take the time to learn, and make friends with classmates who can help you.” He paused, ostensibly to look over the class in an attempt to make sure everyone was paying attention.

The Gryffindor side of the room, at the mention of classmates who could help them, immediately all looked toward Hermione Granger, who seemed quite confused by the sudden attention. Harry glanced back to the Slytherin side, noticing that Theodore Nott seemed to be enthusiastically taking notes, despite the fact that the majority of the other Slytherins seemed to be busy whispering among themselves about something that almost definitely had nothing to do with the class.

“That is not to say that making friends with smart people is enough-- the Ministry have been testing teenagers for years, and they know when you’re cheating.” James looked pointedly at Crabbe and Goyle, who immediately busied themselves by arranging and rearranging their supplies on their desks. “Spells on quills, or whispering back and forth, or passing notes, or whatever some of you have ‘perfected’ over the years isn’t going to work. And, if you somehow dupe the Ministry on your OWLs, you’re going to be toast, come NEWTs, because it’s the same concept, but much harder.”

“Yeah, I was wondering why they called them Nastily Exhausting.” Harry drawled, rolling his eyes. When the class turned toward him, he realized he’d been significantly louder than he’d meant to be, and shut right up, trying not to look too embarrassed. The key, Uncle Sirius had said, when reacting to being caught mouthing off in class, was to act like you’d meant to do it the whole time. Harry, deciding to follow Uncle Sirius’ advice, sat up a little straighter, holding his head high.

“Want me to take points, Mister Potter?” James said, raising an eyebrow, before turning back to the class for another suggestion.

“No, sir.” Harry grumbled, putting his head down on the desk again. He should’ve known that Uncle Sirius’ advice was crap. Uncle Remus and Harry’s father were the only adults in the family to go to, if you really wanted functional, proper advice. Both Harry’s mother and Uncle Sirius only gave out broad, poetic statements or incredibly specific instructions that had nothing to do with the problem at hand. No wonder he made horrible decisions, Harry thought, when all he had for a moral system was “follow your heart” and “act like you meant it, if they catch you out”. Of course, he reasoned, he’d be less inclined to dwell on that if they were actually able to practice all those points his father was droning on about, in relation to the exams.

“Stop messing with your dad.” Ron advised. “That was a close call.”

“I know right?” Harry said, making sure to keep his voice soft enough to avoid detection a second time. He’d have to come up with a second point after this, in order to avoid getting in trouble, or just do well in the practical exercise he was sure would follow this.

They’d learned a lot of things about duelling over the year, and Harry, although initially quite uncomfortable with the idea of duelling again, had found that he was quite good at it. That skill, and his confidence in it, had really only come after a few weeks of leaving class with bad cases of overgrown toenails (one of which actually required him to get new shoes, as they grew through his favorite pair of socks and the practically new pair of shoes he’d only gotten a week beforehand), ringing ears and violently shaking legs.

But, once he’d found his rhythm, he’d excelled to the point that Malfoy could only claim nepotism about a quarter of the times Harry got called up to demonstrate a spell or counterspell. Harry liked to think that had been a severe blow to the other boy’s self-esteem, but unfortunately, Malfoy was just as big headed and annoying as always. Thankfully, neither he nor anyone else had dared bring up the whole Heir of Slytherin fiasco from second year, although he had heard a few whispers about snakes the first time he’d been called up to demonstrate a counter spell.

“Alright, enough about that. You’ve all still got a year, but remember, you can’t count on that full year to be available for studying.” James said, looking straight at Harry before turning his attention to the whole class again. Harry pulled a face. Why would his father target him about procrastination? He’d think about that later. “Life gets in the way, friends get in the way, and, if you leave your work until the night before, you’ll find that there’s no time left to do it in. I suggest you get a head start on it this summer, after you’re done with your exams. And, to practice for these exams, which are a much more present threat, I’d suggest you brush up on your spells and counterspells. To do that, push the desks back and find a partner.”

“You’re not going to partner us across houses, Professor?” Dean Thomas asked.

Harry winced, remembering the last time he’d dueled a Slytherin. Not a good idea. He looked over at Draco Malfoy, who was already sending him a death glare, as though hoping to set Harry’s hair on fire with only the heat of his gaze.

“Dean, right?” James said, looking Dean Thomas up and down. “I’m not stupid. You’ll all murder each other if given the slightest of opportunities, and I’d rather not have that on my hands, if it can be avoided. Finnigan’s more than happy to partner with you and I wouldn’t dare deny him the opportunity.”

“Right, right.” Dean said, grinning sheepishly, as he ran off to where Seamus was nearly bouncing up and down, eager to get started.

Harry grinned at Ron, who had turned to his friend automatically, and drew his wand, holding it at the ready. “Ready to lose, Ron?”

“I’m used to it.” Ron grinned as he pulled his own wand from his robes. “Been losing since Ginny was born.”

“You say that like I wasn’t right there with you.” Harry said, with a laugh, before doing his best to look serious. “But seriously, I’m going to destroy you.”

“I’d like to see you try!”

“Alright, who’s partner one in each group?” Harry’s hand shot up before Ron even had a chance to raise his, and he stuck out his tongue at Ron as Ron subtly flipped his friend off. “Alright, partner one gets to go first with the hexing. Partner one, cast the Tickling Hex. Partner two, think back to the beginning of the year. There’s a catch all for hexes, and cast it as quickly as possible to keep the tickling to a minimum.”

“Ready, Ron?” Harry asked, eager to be on with it. Ron, who had quite the knack for the Tickling Hex, had hit him countless times with this spell over the course of the year, and Harry, although he’d had revenge several times already, was eager to get it again. Ron, however, was not so enthusiastic.

“Do we have to?”

“One hundred percent not optional.” Harry declared, grinning.

“Alright, partner one, on three.” James called out. “Wands at the ready. One, two, three.”

“Titillando!” Harry called out, right on three, and purple, hand shaped ribbons sprung from the tip of Harry’s wand, wrapping around Ron. Judging by the way Ron was howling, they were definitely tickling him quite a bit. Harry allowed himself a good laugh, and readied his wand again when Ron cast the counter spell.

“Finite!” He wailed, waving his arms as though it would throw off the hex faster.

“Alright, partner two!” James called out. “Time for payback! Pick any hex you like and go for it, on five!”

Ron, who was still pink in the face from Harry’s spell, suddenly looked like he was glowing with retribution.

Harry’s eyes widened in fear. Ron was going to kill him.

“You’d better watch out-- Ginny taught me this one!” Ron let out a laugh as he whipped his wand forward, shouting a terrifyingly familiar incantation. Within moments, Harry was surrounded by bats made of his own boogers, slapping him in the face with their weird, slimy wings

“Finite!” Harry yelled, slipping his wand into his pocket before wiping his face on the sleeve of his robe. “Disgusting!” He’d have to be a bit more careful around Ginny, then. If she’d taught Ron to do it this well, who knew how powerful her version was?

There was a loud bang in the back of the room, and the class turned to see Seamus Finnigan, for the second time in the past four years, without eyebrows. Dean, who had escaped the blast largely unharmed, seemed to be barely stifling laughter, carefully avoiding making eye contact with his boyfriend.

“Do you suppose it’s his wand, or is Seamus just naturally flammable?” Ron sighed.

“Well, Dean _did_ say Seamus was hot.” Harry said, shrugging.

* * *

The Divination classroom was full of pungent smoke, as always, though no fire burned in the hearth. There were sticks of incense lit around the room, but certainly not enough to cause the continuous haze that had plagued Sybil Trelawney’s students for the past two years. Ron was looking around idly, as though searching for the source. Harry nearly told him it was a waste of time, as he’d been looking from the first day and hadn’t found even a clue yet, but he left it alone. He wasn’t the type of friend to deny someone even the slightest shreds of hope.

“Alright, Ronald.” Harry said, in the most ridiculous voice possible. He’d figured out, early this year, that the only way to make Divination even more comical than it was was to put funny voices to it, which wasn’t very hard at all. Of course, there was the fact that Divination was quite funny on its own, but going too far with the joke was half the fun anyway. “Have you had any strange dreams lately?”

“Oh, you bet.” Ron turned back to his friend with a conspiratorial grin. “I’ve been saving this one for you all day. So, the dream starts and I’m standing in my room, right? Except it isn’t my real room, at the Burrow, but in the dream I knew it was my room. You know how that is.”

“How are you so sure of that?” Harry asked, confused. Despite his confusion, he managed to maintain the ridiculous voice, which he was quite proud of.

“I dunno. I just am.” Ron shrugged before continuing with his story. “So Hermione was there, and also some blonde bird who looked like that Fleur girl from Beauxbatons but also not like her? And they were looking for something, and I kept telling them to get out of my room! But they wouldn’t leave, so I had to crawl out the window cause for some reason the door just wasn’t an option.”

Harry groaned, slapping a hand over his eyes. “Where do I start? There are a billion things wrong with that, and I have no idea which one is the most important one to bring to your attention. Oh, yeah, maybe the bit where you _jumped out the window_?”

“Dream logic!” Ron insisted, not for the first time. “But I was fine. The next bit of the dream is sort of a blur and I don’t really remember most of it, except Fluffy might have been there? But after that, I was at a wedding. And my mum was there, except she had on this wig that was all covered in feathers. And she locked me in some building with a giant jigsaw puzzle of Fred and George’s faces. After that, I must have been so scared I woke up.”

“That… That was absolutely, one hundred percent, entirely _ridiculous_.” Harry said, sighing. “How am I supposed to fake a meaning for that?”

“To quote a wise redhead… Follow your heart.” Ron grinned cheekily, knowing how often Harry received scraps of parchment from his mother with that very advice scrawled on it.

“Shut up. Alright, so, you’re, uh, dealing with a choice, and the choice is between Hermione and some other girl, and you didn’t want to pick either, so you died? I guess that means you’d rather die than make a choice between Hermione and someone else, and I don’t know what that means. And then your personal hell is a wedding with your mother around and I guess a literal bird’s involved this time with the hat?” Harry shrugged, scratching the back of his head. Ron’s dreams were always ridiculous, so much so that Harry was privately convinced that he had to be making at least some of it up. Harry’s own dreams were much more mundane-- usually consisting of showing up to class naked or getting into a fight with Anne without any blackmail material stored up. “Your brain’s a mess, mate, I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t even want to try figuring out the puzzle pieces bit. You’re worried about living up to expectations, maybe?”

“Suppose it’s trying to tell the twins apart?” He hummed, leaning his elbows on the tabletop.

“Could be that too.” Harry said pensively, nodding. “That’s quite the task for you, I’d imagine.”

“What, you want me to applaud you because you can actually tell them apart?” Ron griped. “Congrats, you’ve got a step up on my mum.”

“Applause would be nice. And a way out of this class, but I feel like I’m more likely to get applause.” Harry grinned, scanning the room. Trelawney was occupied, as were the rest of his classmates. Parvati and Lavender looked quite engaged, both taking notes and whispering back and forth. If Harry had to bet money on the subject of their conversation, he’d actually say it was about the class-- both girls shared an intense interest in the subject that he couldn’t even begin to fathom, and he’d have to beg his way back into Parvati’s good graces before exams rolled around if he wanted to pass the class again.

“Okay, okay. What’d you dream about?” Ron asked.

“Right, so I was going to go to the store with my dad. Usual Sunday afternoon stuff-- my mum and Sarah make the list, then I follow my dad around the store to make sure he doesn’t come back with anything extra or take too long. Except, this time, I don’t have the list when we get there, so I don’t know when he’s gone off the list. So I get home, and everyone’s mad, and they all start yelling. And that’s when I woke up, to the sound of you screaming, so I guess that was what I was hearing.” Harry said, shaking his head violently as if the dream would just fall straight out of his head. The dream didn't mean anything-- it was just an old memory haunting him. The ill-fated shopping trip in question had happened when he was nine, and Sarah still asked him if he’d forgotten anything nearly every time he left the house. “Gross.” He pulled a face. “Alright, Ronnie, work your magic.”

“Okay, so you’ve forgotten something important, and you don’t know what to do in a situation that should be familiar to you.” Ron’s nose scrunched up as he thought. “You’re scared that everyone will be mad at you, and you have trouble functioning under pressure. Boom.”

“That actually sounds like it means something.” Harry said, awestruck. Ron was a genius. “That actually sounds like real advice.”

“Right? This class is so easy.” Ron leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head.

“Hey, Ron, you might not want to do that, you might--”

Before Harry could finish his sentence, Ron had tipped backwards, toppling to the ground with a loud clatter. The quiet chatter came to a halt as the other students turned to stare at him.

“Fall.” Harry finished weakly, sighing deeply as he crossed his arms. Ron might be brilliant at decoding dreams, but he sure as hell couldn’t have predicted that.


	14. Swimming Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alright! Let’s get moving!” Harry said eagerly, grabbing Hermione’s hand as he ran down to the edge of the lake. He let go of her hand as they reached the edge, trying to look excited when he stuck his foot into the water. Ice cold. Great. This was going to be really fun. “Hardest part’s getting in! Water’s great today, so maybe it won’t be that hard!”
> 
> Hermione, thanks to nearly four years of friendship, saw right through him. “It’s freezing, isn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week, we're back to the plot, but we thought we'd give you guys another cute scene first! Harry Potter isn't an effective swimming teacher, nor are his methods reliable, so please don't try them at home. 
> 
> We'll see you guys next Friday for the Third Task and the thrilling conclusion to the Triwizard Tournament! It feels weird to be this close to wrapping up One Good Year already, but there are bigger and better things to come soon.
> 
> -S&L

“Are you really sure you want me to do this?” Harry asked, for the tenth time in the past three minutes. He glanced nervously at the lake, then back at his friends. “I mean, what if I accidentally drown one of you or something?”

“Bring along Neville or something.” Ron shrugged. “To act as lifeguard number two.”

“Actually, I’ve got a better idea.” Hermione said, looking over her shoulder toward the school. She spotted a figure approaching them and waved. “Viktor knows how to swim, we saw him do it in the challenge.”

“I already did ask Neville, actually.” Harry said. “He was the one who got me worried about the whole drowning thing.”

“Viktor?” Ron made a face, glancing at the Bulgarian student striding towards them.

“Come on, Ron, be nice.” Harry said, although he wasn’t too thrilled about it either. “He’s Hermione’s friend too, just like we are. So we should try to be nice to him?” He said, looking to Hermione for confirmation. When she nodded, he looked back to Ron. “Yeah. We should make him feel welcome and stuff. The tournament is all about friendship.”

“And almost dying.” Ron said, huffing out a sigh, as he seemingly debated the pros and cons of the idea. Viktor was nearly upon them, now, and Ron whispered his response just before he was within hearing range. “I’ll try. But only ‘cause he saved you, Hermione.”

“Means a lot.” Hermione said, quietly enough that Viktor didn’t hear, before waving him over. 

“Hello.” Viktor said, in his heavily accented voice. “Hermy-own-ninny said you vere going swimming?”

“Yeah. Swimming.” Ron grumbled.

“Swimming!” Harry said, much more enthusiastically than Ron had, hoping to get his friend to at least fake it in competition. When that failed, Ron maintaining his silence, Harry turned toward Viktor. “You know how to swim, and so do I, but neither Ron or Hermione do, so Hermione figured having two teachers would be safer than just one. In case something happens, and all.”

Viktor nodded sagely, his thick eyebrows knitting together. “Yes, I vas quite surprised when Hermy-own-ninny told me she couldn’t swim, after the task.” He said. “I think it is a vonderful idea.”

“I’ll help out Hermione, then, and you can try with Ron?” Harry asked, looking to Viktor. It had been two months since the second task, long enough for he and Ron to get over themselves, according to Hermione, but she hadn’t been the one to wait over an hour by the lake with no confirmation of her safety, so Harry and Ron had agreed on the fact that she wasn’t allowed to put limits on their feelings if they weren’t allowed to put limits on hers. They had agreed not to argue about it though, and Harry was doing his best not to bring it up. 

Ron cast a betrayed look towards his friend, obviously having assumed Harry would be helping him. Viktor clapped a hand to the redhead’s shoulder, causing him to jump. “Uh, yeah. Sounds great.”

“Shall we get started then?” Harry said, motioning toward the lake. He didn’t dare look toward Hermione, knowing she’d likely be just as put off as Ron, but he didn’t want Viktor near her in the water, no matter how successfully the task had gone.

Viktor nodded in response, looking oddly pleased despite his lack of a smile. Ron, on the other hand, looked as though Fred and George had brought the furniture in his room to life and directed it out onto the lawn. 

“Alright! Let’s get moving!” Harry said eagerly, grabbing Hermione’s hand as he ran down to the edge of the lake. He let go of her hand as they reached the edge, trying to look excited when he stuck his foot into the water. Ice cold. Great. This was going to be really fun. “Hardest part’s getting in! Water’s great today, so maybe it won’t be that hard!”

Hermione, thanks to nearly four years of friendship, saw right through him. “It’s freezing, isn’t it?”

Viktor didn’t seem bothered by the cold. He waded into the water after folding his shirt on the bank, seemingly at home in the frigid water. 

“Uh. Maybe Harry’s right. I could drown, you know.” Ron said, eyeing the lake with distaste.

“Do not vorry. I vill not let you drown. I saved Hermy-own-ninny, yes?” 

“I won’t let you drown either.” Harry spoke up, casting a smile at Hermione before following Viktor into the water. It wasn’t pleasant, and he wasn’t sure he could feel anything below his knees anymore, but that was fine. “Come on, Hermione, you’ve got to be better than Ron, at least.”

“Hey!”

Ron may not have taken that statement to heart, but Hermione did, following Harry and Viktor into the lake. “Wow.” She said, trying her best to look excited. “You weren’t lying about it being cold.”

“Nope!” Harry said, a little happier now. “It’s freezing. But we’ll eventually have to make it to waist deep water, at least, so I suggest we all get moving. Right, Viktor?”

“This is not very cold at all.” Viktor seemed surprised. “Ve haff to swim in water like this at Durmstrang.”

“Well, this isn’t Bulgaria.” Ron said, inching his way into the water.

“No,” Viktor agreed easily, “it is not. Though Durmstrang is in Sweden.”

“What other stuff do you do at Durmstrang? Do you have the same subjects?” Harry asked, trying to make conversation as he waded further into the water. Hermione followed along beside him, although a little bit more slowly.

Viktor looked vaguely uncomfortable at this line of questioning. “Some.” He hedged. “Though ve haff a… wider variety, as vell.”

“Is it true you learn the Dark Arts?” Ron asked suspiciously, stepping further into the water again. 

“... Yes.” Viktor said, looking distinctly uncomfortable now.

“Do you have to take Divination?” Harry asked, eager to change the subject at least a little. “Divination sucks.”

“You don’t have to take Divination either.” Hermione reminded Harry, who stuck his tongue out at her. “You chose it, and you chose to stick with it.”

“Yeah, yeah, beside the point.” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“Ve haff scrying.” Viktor said after a moment of thought. “I do not take it, but my friend Piotr does. It is a more specific form of your divination.”

“See, scrying sounds cool.” Harry said, nodding. “You can learn things from that. Can’t learn anything from staring at tea leaves or that weird thing with the sticks they made us do first year. What even was that?”

“Divination’s a hoot and a half.” Ron agreed, sounding distinctly like his mother in that moment. “We all just make up the answers, half the time. Except maybe Parvati and Lavender. They’re weirdly into it.”

“Has Hermione told you how she quit Divination, Viktor?” Harry said to Hermione, a mischievous smile on his face. “It’s quite the story.”

“I quit!” Ron shouted in a shrill voice that sounded nothing like Hermione. 

Viktor cracked a grin. “Is this true?” He asked.

“It is definitely not true.” Hermione protested, looking quite flustered as she kicked some water in Harry’s direction. Harry winced, waving his hands about in front of himself as if they would block the ice cold splash, which was, at most, at knee level. “It was like that, sure, but not exactly that way.”

“Walked right out of the class! First time I’ve ever seen Hermione give up on something involving a book, in the four years I’ve known her.” Harry said, grinning at Viktor. “Said she couldn’t stand it and walked right out, and then Parvati and Lavender got all excited because it confirmed a prophecy the teacher had given at the beginning of the year or something. What a load of crap.”

“A prophecy? Please.” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “She didn’t have to be a seer to guess that I’d drop the class. I’d expressed disbelief in her methods and subject from the very first day. Besides, who says she’s even a seer in the first place?” 

“Dumbledore.” Harry said, shrugging. But, then again, Dumbledore had hired Snape, which was enough reason to cast doubt on the validity of his hiring practices. “Personally, I’m pretty sure it’s just the fumes in Trelawney’s classroom getting to her a bit. It starts getting to us after just half an hour in there, and she’s up there all the time, so that’s not safe at all! There’s no ventilation, and it always smells like incense and tea. Not bad by themselves, but disgusting together. And that’s without taking into account all that weird smoke.”

“I think that is a health hazard.” Viktor said uncertainly. 

“Being in the same room as Trelawney is a health hazard.” Ron declared, shaking his head. “She’s a total loon.”

“That whole subject’s a health hazard. Hermione, when you become Minister of Magic, you’ll ban Divination, won’t you?” Harry asked, and Hermione nodded, looking quite secure in that decision. “Perfect! We’ve only got to wait a few years then, and Hermione’ll take care of it.”

“I vas thinking this is not how your ministry works.” Viktor seemed amused. “Vill she be voted in, or is it based off academics?” 

“If it was based off of academics, she’d have the position in the bag already. I’m pretty sure there’s a Wizengamot vote involved, though. Probability says that at least some of those old white people will like her.” Harry nodded resolutely, before flashing a grin at Hermione. “That’s gonna be our project this summer, Hermione. Successful campaigns gotta start early. If we start catching the younger ones now, maybe the older ones will die off by the time you run. Perfect method to ensure you win.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s an age requirement.” Hermione said, trying to hide a smile. She’d make an excellent Minister, Harry thought. Hermione would do a brilliant job of changing the world, and if she did it her way, then there would be little to worry about. The house elves would be free, people would stop hating Muggleborns, and people like Draco Malfoy wouldn’t be in power all the time anymore… It sounded like a world Harry would like to live in. Of course, they’d have to get Hermione there first, and that would be quite a bit of work, but Harry was ready to do it, if she was alright with it. “And, besides, any Minister would have to have basic knowledge of law.”

“There are books about that, I’m pretty sure.” Harry shrugged. There were likely some in the study at home-- his grandfather had been an Auror, and he had been overly fond of books, much like Sarah was now. He must have kept some books lying around. By the time his father had become an Auror, Harry thought darkly, there was little use for books anymore. “Read a couple?”

“I’ll look in the library for a couple. Or, hey! Just ask Percy! He’s absolutely nuts about that stuff.” Ron laughed, tromping a bit past his friends.

“Yeah, well, leave it to Percy to be into boring stuff.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Law sounds boring. What are you planning on doing after Quidditch, Viktor?”

“I am not sure.” He replied truthfully. “I haff been so focused on the tournament that it slipped my mind.”

“Thankfully you’ve got awhile left before you’ve gotta think too seriously about anything else.” Harry said. “What’s it like? Being a pro and all.”

“It is… a rush.” He decided. “Very invigorating. I’m glad to have gotten as far as I haff. I heard that you play, Harry?”

“He’s only one of the youngest seekers Gryffindor has ever seen!” Ron puffed up with pride for his best friend.

“Hey, what do you know, we’re all far enough in to give it a go!” Harry said, looking around at his friends. Bragging about his Quidditch skills to a professional seeker, especially someone who played for his country? Harry would rather lick Percy’s left foot. Maybe he could get near Viktor’s level, if he worked at it, but bragging at that point in time would be much safer than bragging now.

“It’s still freezing.” Hermione said, trying to keep from shivering too violently. She seemed surprised that she’d waded in so far. Ron looked rather disheartened, despite the fact that Viktor was merely floating on his back.

“It’s not as bad if you start moving around.” Harry said, stomping around in the water for emphasis. He didn’t feel any warmer, but he also didn’t feel any colder, so that was a victory in and of itself. “Second step’s getting comfortable putting your head underwater, but I guess you could use a Bubble Head Charm if you want to chicken out.”

“Safety isn’t chickening out.” Hermione retorted, frowning.

“Nobody asked you to keep your head underwater forever, Hermione.” Harry pulled a face. 

“Don’t let Anne hear you say that. She’ll take it as a challenge.” Ron said. Harry nodded, shuddering.

“Anne?” Viktor looked to Hermione questioningly. 

“I’ve got a truckload of siblings. Two sisters and two brothers, all younger than me.” Harry said, smiling fondly at the thought of them. Even now, coming up on the end of his fourth year at Hogwarts, he was still just as excited as he had been the first year to get home and spend a summer horsing around with his siblings. “They’re all great. Smart, and cool, and not losers and all that. A little fond of taking things a little too literally, when it comes to challenges, though. Except Matt. He’s a good kid. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

Viktor shook his head. “I am a single child.” He shrugged. 

“You aren’t missing out on much.” Ron said. “I have five older brothers and a younger sister. It’s a pain in the arse.”

“Your siblings are not as bad as you say they are.” Hermione said, shaking her head. “Ginny’s a lot of fun, actually.”

“Ginny’s only one of Ron’s siblings, but you’re right, they aren’t that bad.” Harry said. “You’ve only met mine for a couple minutes every year in a train station, so no wonder you think they’re not that bad. That’s their best behavior. I’ve had to live with them for years, and it’s way different that way.”

“You’ve never seen Sarah and Anne fight.” Ron told Hermione seriously. Harry nodded. It did tend to get messy when Sarah and Anne fought. His father had given up and started videotaping their fights to use as blackmail, for when they were adults and hopefully liked each other a little more. “It’s a warzone. Matt cries. Mrs. Potter shouts. I’m lucky to have escaped with all my limbs intact.”

“I liked it better when they were babies.” Harry said, shaking his head. “Back when they were all weird and chubby and floppy and couldn’t talk yet? Best time of my life.” He didn’t remember much of that time, having only been a little over four and a half, but what little he could remember was good. No fights, no yelling, only minor hair pulling between the babies sometimes, and even then, they were babies, so they stopped crying as soon as someone picked them up.

“I don’t think babies would make for very good company.” Viktor cracked a smile. “They are even vorse at conversations than I am.”

“They throw up a lot. Everywhere.” Harry said, pulling a face. “And you’re not too bad, don’t worry. English is hard, sometimes. Do you speak another language at home?”

“Da.” Viktor shrugged. “Bulgarian. Though ve speak different languages at Durmstrang, depending on the student.” 

“We tend to do half and half, at home-- can’t keep my mum completely out of the loop or we’ll all be in trouble.” Harry said, grinning. “It’s kinda tough, going from that to just all English all the time. Makes essays a pain.”

Viktor nodded, looking pleased to find someone who understood. “Ve are here to form relationships vith students from other countries. It is… challenging, to speak a second language all day. But rewarding.”

“Hard to find the right words, sometimes.” Harry said, looking quite contemplative. He’d always managed just fine in a mixture of both Tamil and English, at home, but it had been strange to go off to school and realize not everyone else did that. It was always fun to meet someone else who got what that special brand of confusion was like. “Either that or you know the word in one language and not in the other, and you don’t want to muck it up by saying the wrong thing.”

“I am often forgetting vords in English. Just yesterday Hermy-own-ninny and I had a misunderstanding because I could not recall vat you called a mivka.”

“He means a sink.” Hermione said, chuckling. “We spent a good half an hour arguing back and forth, trying to find out what the other person was thinking. It was funny. Almost like that time you tried to explain human to animal transfiguration to me in Tamil, Harry.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you keep me up late at night. I forget how English works. Besides, it was an awesome explanation.” Harry said, looking quite proud of himself. Even his father, who was an expert on human to animal transfiguration, had said his explanation was quite good, when helping Harry translate it back into English properly for the essay, although he hadn’t appreciated Harry’s suggestion that he’d have less trouble with writing essays properly if he were allowed to go through all the essays his father had boxed up in the attic. “At least I explained it to you in English later, once I figured out what the right words were.”

“It was pretty good.” Hermione agreed, and Harry grinned. If Hermione said it was pretty good, then it was much more than that. He’d never appreciated her high standards more.

“Sometimes, when he wakes up in the morning, he speaks in Tamil.” Ron told Hermione, who hadn’t yet had the privilege of seeing a sleep-deprived Harry upon waking. She wasn’t missing much, Harry thought, before realizing the depth of Ron’s betrayal.

“What is this, a swimming lesson or an embarrass Harry party?” Harry exclaimed, feigning offense as he crossed his arms. 

“Every party is an embarrass Harry party.” Ron said sagely. Harry kicked Ron in the back of the leg hard enough that he nearly fell face down into the lake. “Harry!”

“You vere right.” Viktor smiled down at Hermione. “They are very entertaining.”

“I told you so.” Hermione said, laughing.

“The truth comes out!” Ron pointed at Hermione. “Harry, she’s gossiping about us! This is a betrayal of the highest order!”

“Hermione”, Harry said solemnly, “we’ll need to officially dissolve our friendship. You’ll receive the papers in the mail within four to six weeks. I’ll see you in court.”

“There is very little swimming happening at this swimming lesson.” Viktor observed. 

“If you hang around us enough, you’ll eventually notice that we rarely ever do what we say we’re doing.” Harry said to Viktor, shaking his head.


	15. The Third Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You almost die every year, and you’re telling us not to dig things up?” Hermione asked, frowning. “I expected better from you.”
> 
> “I didn’t almost die this year. And I had that good long streak between two and ten that people keep forgetting about.” Harry pointed out.
> 
> “How many times have we disowned him?” Ron asked. “And can we do it again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter! Between the storm postponing getting to school and some family issues, I wasn't really able to get stuff done this week. Things seem to have cleared up now, and hopefully will stay that way for next week, which is our last chapter of OGY. Time really has flown.
> 
> Thanks for waiting, and this chapter is one hundred percent worth the wait.
> 
> Also, apologies to anyone named Gertrude. Harry's opinions are his alone, and not the opinions of the writers.
> 
> -S

“You know”, Harry said, looking at the maze before them, “I thought it couldn’t get worse. And then it did.” 

Now he understood why they’d cancelled Quidditch, although he didn’t understand why they’d done so for the whole year-- the field had been turned into a large maze, the leafy hedges that made up the walls at least twice, if not three times, Harry’s height. Obviously, whatever the champions would be looking for would be at the center, Harry thought. The only problem was that everyone watching would be just as clueless as the champions.

“I think I remember saying that the second task wasn’t much of a spectator sport.” Ron sighed from beside him. Blue eyes roved over the outside of the maze, as though searching for some way to peer into the twisting paths. “This isn’t any better.”

“Yeah, it’s only about four million times worse.” Harry grumbled.

“I wouldn’t say four million.” Hermione said, shaking her head. “Maybe two million, at the outside.”

“Hermione’s making jokes.” Harry said glumly, shaking his head. “Our lives are over.”

“I’ve come to accept our fate.” Ron shrugged. “This is the first year nothing has gone spectacularly wrong for us, anyways.”

“I know, right?” Harry brightened up quickly at the thought, grinning at Hermione. 

Nothing had gone wrong this year-- in fact, all the cards were in his favor, at the moment, and he was quite happy with how things stood. Of course, he would’ve liked for the third task to be a little more worth watching, but asking for too much only made you lose it all, in the end. The story about the monkey and the cats his father always told was enough proof-- the cats wanted him to split the food equally between them, and they kept arguing over who had more and kept wanting it split again and again. 

Eventually, there was nothing left for the cats, because the monkey had eaten some to “make it even” every time he divided it until it was all gone. Harry had always hated the monkey, especially since Sarah had blurted out that it reminded her of him.

“Who’s the favorite to win?” Hermione asked, looking to Harry, who shrugged. “The points system. Did you at least write it down, what they got last time?”

“Sorry, we were too worried about you almost drowning.” Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Next time, we’ll be sure to take notes.”

“I did not almost drown.” Hermione said, crossing her arms. “Viktor could swim and he wouldn’t have let me drown. It’s long past time to be over it.”

“Fine, fine.” Harry said. “Let’s watch some leaves.”

“You wouldn’t be ‘getting over it’ if it were Harry or I.” Ron grumbled. “You practically had a conniption in first year when I got knocked off the chess piece.”

“I did not.” Hermione muttered. “You made the decision to get on the piece, and it was entirely your fault when you fell off.”

“Let’s not go digging up years old stuff.” Harry said, laughing nervously. If they continued talking, he was sure to be next up on the chopping block. And, unlike Ron, Harry actually had things to be ashamed of.

“You almost die every year, and you’re telling us not to dig things up?” Hermione asked, frowning. “I expected better from you.”

“I didn’t almost die this year. And I had that good long streak between two and ten that people keep forgetting about.” Harry pointed out.

“How many times have we disowned him?” Ron asked. “And can we do it again?”

“We should.” Hermione agreed. Harry pouted, but she stood strong in the face of his only real threat. “Harry, stop doing that. Your face might get stuck.”

“God, I didn’t ask for extra parents.” Harry muttered. “I left home for school to get out of this, and here we are.”

“No, you left cause you got a letter. Same as us.” Ron said.

“Yeah, that was part of it.” Harry said, pulling a face. Why did Ron have to be right? If there had been an option closer to home, he knew his parents would’ve much rather sent him there, Hogwarts legacy be damned. 

Of course, he’d learned most of the useful magic he knew at home in the evenings, just like his father and his grandfather and all his family before them had, and wandless magic came so much more easily than magic with a wand. Harry honestly didn’t know why people bothered with wands so much-- if it was about focusing the magic, that was easily done by just concentrating, and then you wouldn’t have to worry about whether you were carrying your stick, or carrying the right stick.

“Hermione just told you not to make funny faces.” Ron rolled his eyes.

“Okay, father.” Harry rolled his eyes. “I’ll stop.”

“We didn’t raise you to sass us, you little shit.” Ron grinned at his best friend.

“You didn’t raise me.” Harry snorted. “You’re, what, four months older than me? You couldn’t even roll over by the time I was born.”

“I was a very advanced baby.” Ron assured him.

“Again, you walking first means nothing, seeing as I’m four months younger than you.” Harry slapped a hand over his eyes. “Are you going to just use that forever?”

“I walked before both of you.” Hermione cut in.

“Yeah, well.” Harry grumbled, pulling a face. “You’re never not first at anything.”

Hermione looked quite pleased with that, smiling at Harry.

“Being friends with a know-it-all like you makes us look worse in comparison.” Ron agreed with a laugh.

“We’ve got a lot of experience.” Harry said, pulling a face. “Nearly four years of experience. Can you believe we’ve been friends for almost four years?”

“Four years with Hermione.” Ron corrected. “You and I met when we were little.”

“I meant all three of us, silly.” Harry said, reaching out to shove Ron lightly. “We’ve been friends since we were a year old. We’ve got nearly ten years on our friendships with Hermione.”

“Then I guess we have to give her ten years of friendship, too.” Ron said, looking over the crowd and back to the maze. “Y’know. To be fair.”

“Yeah, but we’ll be up to twenty by then.” Harry said, frowning. “Hermione, why don’t we just call it at forever, or something, and then everybody’s even?”

“Forever isn’t a number.” Hermione pointed out. 

“Then what’s the biggest number?” Harry asked. “Infinity? ‘Cause that’ll only cover us until the end of this task.”

Ron let out a laugh, shoulders shaking with the force of it. “Oh man, it’s true.”

“We’ve already been here forty minutes, and it’s not even started yet.” Harry said, shaking his head.

“We’ve only been here five minutes.” Hermione pointed out. “Although you do have a point, it has felt a lot longer than that.”

“I always have a point.” Harry replied smugly.

McGonagall and Dumbledore broke away from where the champions were gathered, and a moment later the headmaster’s voice rang through the stadium. “Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you of how the points stand. In first place, with eighty-seven points, is Cedric Diggory, of Hogwarts school!” The crowd broke into wild cheering, and Harry could see Cedric’s sheepish wave even from his place in the stands.

“In second, with eighty points, Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!” Ron let out a sharp whistle, clapping enthusiastically despite the Hogwarts students’ lack of enthusiasm. 

“And in third place, with seventy-five points, Viktor Krum of Durmstrang Institute!” Harry stood up, cheering loudly as he clapped. Hermione joined him, waving to Viktor in an effort to catch his attention. Ron stood as well, clapping despite his awkward glances at the surrounding students. Viktor’s eyes scanned the crowd, and when they fell on the three Hogwarts students, he seemed to laugh, but raised his hand in a small wave. 

“On my whistle, Mr. Diggory will enter the maze. He will have a five minute head start, at which point Miss Delacour will enter. Mr. Krum will be another five minutes past that.” Dumbledore raised his hand. “Three-- two-- one--” He blew into a silver whistle, prompting Cedric to hurry forward into the maze.

“Ten more minutes?” Harry said, eyes wide. “And that’s just for all of them to start! Can you imagine how long it’ll be once they get into the maze?”

“Mazes aren’t hard as long as you pay attention, really.” Hermione said thoughtfully. “If you remember the paths you’ve taken, you can try to avoid going in circles.”

“Yeah, but you’re forgetting that this is a weird, magic maze. It’s probably stuffed it chock full of monsters or death or something.” Harry muttered. “I mean, we go to school right next to a forest full of monsters, and no one sees anything wrong with that. What makes you think anyone in charge of this would’ve thought ‘Hey, we’re making a maze right? Why not have it be just a maze, with no death in it or anything?’. The answer’s no one.”

“That’s the near death experience we all forgot.” Hermione said, entirely missing the point. “Ron, remember when Harry got lost in the forest first year?”

“We don’t talk about that.” Harry grumbled. That was when all of this Voldemort business had truly kicked off, and after that, everything had gone right to hell. If only he’d left Hagrid to deal with himself-- then they never would’ve gotten involved in all of this, and Voldemort might have left him alone for at least a couple more months. They would’ve run into him eventually, with the Stone, but at least he would’ve a few more months of blissful ignorance beforehand.

“Oh yeah.” Ron mused. “Guess we always forget about it, ‘cause going after the stone at the end of the year was so much more dramatic.” To be fair, Ron and Hermione had not been present for the final moment of their search. Ron had been knocked unconscious during the chess match, and Hermione had gone back to help him while Harry continued forward. 

“Dramatic isn’t even close.” Harry said, shaking his head. “That was a whole new level.” And, indeed, it had been-- eleven year old Harry had thought that his life was hard, between homework and Quidditch and outsmarting Draco Malfoy, but that talk had made it clear to him that there were greater and more terrible things ahead. The events of his second year had only confirmed that, which Harry had been trying to deny all summer. If he were given the chance now, Harry mused, he’d punch eleven year old Harry right in the face.

“Well, you would know all about being dramatic.” Ron mused. Dumbledore blew his whistle again, and Fleur took off into the maze like a shot, her silvery hair disappearing into the shadows of the hedges.

“I’m not that bad.” Harry said, pulling a face. “I’ve gotten better.”

“You’ve calmed down some.” Hermione allowed, smiling. “You were much worse, at first.”

“You should have seen him as a kid.” Ron said. “He was much worse, then.”

“How much worse?” Hermione asked. “Mrs. Potter told me some stories, and you’ve given up some details over the years, but that’s not enough information to go off of.” 

“You have plenty of information.” Harry cut in, glaring at Ron as he drew a finger sharply across his throat. Ron better not give Hermione more ammunition-- she was still laughing at Harry over the story Ron had told six months ago about how Harry’d lost his first tooth. “No need to talk about me more!”

“When he was little, he liked to put on his mum’s makeup and go running around the house. Used to scream whenever they tried cleaning it off of him.” Ron told Hermione.

“To be fair, it was mostly because they told me not to touch it.” Harry said, shrugging. 

“And it still holds true today.” Ron sighed.

“What do you mean by that?” Harry asked, frowning.

“If someone tells you not to do something, it’s almost guaranteed that you’ll do it.” Ron said. “How do you think your parents get you to do half the things you don’t want to?”

“They-- They can’t be doing that on purpose!” Harry said, looking between Ron and Hermione. “They can’t be!”

“They are.” Hermione said, nodding seriously. “Your mother’s suggested it to us multiple times, actually.”

“I thought maybe you’d noticed, and were just going along with it because you thought it was funny,” Ron snickered, “but then I remembered who you are.”

“What’re you trying to say about me, huh?” Harry said, frowning. He wouldn’t have thought it was funny, even if he’d known. God, this explained so much. Did this mean that follow your heart had actually meant something all along?

Ron just laughed, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. Another whistle rang out, and Viktor disappeared into the maze.

“That’s all of them, then.” Said Seamus, from a few seats down.

“And now, we wait.” Harry said grumpily, staring at the outside of the maze. The leaves rustled in the wind, and he rested his face in the palm of his hand, elbow balanced unsteadily on his knee. “This is going to be boring.”

“We should have brought a snack.” Ron said. “Or maybe a board game or something. D’you think Fred and George brought exploding snap with them?”

“I think they left, like anybody with things to do would’ve.” Harry scanned the stands for Fred and George. He’d heard them collecting their bets earlier, but the cloud of noise that usually surrounded Fred and George, and usually Lee, had been gone quite awhile now. They’d likely picked someone to watch the task for them, he thought, before he spotted Fred, sitting by himself, intently watching the outside of the maze. George and Lee were nowhere to be seen. “Hey, look, there’s Fred!”

Ron looked up, eyes sweeping over the crowd several times before landing on his brother. “I almost didn’t recognize him on his own.” He frowned. “Where the bloody hell has George run off to?”

“Dunno.” Harry shrugged. “Do they do anything alone?”

“I have known them my entire life, and the only time I’ve ever really seen them apart was when mum sent Fred to Aunt Gertrude’s house for the weekend and George spent the whole time crying.” Ron said. “We were really little, though.”

“You have an aunt named _Gertrude_?” Harry said, jaw dropping in disbelief. 

“I’d rather not talk about it.” Ron groaned. “Hey, Fred!”

The lone twin glanced up, chin lifting from where he’d rested it against his fist. “What?”

“C’mere!”

Fred got to his feet, shimmying through the rows of the stands in order to approach the trio. “What’s up?”

“Fred, you have an aunt named _Gertrude_!” Harry said, still surprised. “Why?”

“Cause Grandma named her that?” Fred raised an eyebrow before breaking out into a grin. “‘Sides, Ronniekins here says you’re related to someone named Reginald.”

“Great-grandpa Reginald had no choice in his name.” Harry said, shaking his head. “Everybody’s got skeletons in their closets, I guess. Ours is just named Reginald.”

“And ours is named Gertrude.” Fred plopped down next to the three of them, elbowing Hermione lightly. “You sure you don’t wanna place any last minute bets?”

“No.” Hermione said, frowning. “I’ve made it through the first two tasks, so I can handle one more.”

“No fun. How about you, Harry? Wanna bet on Cedric?” Fred asked.

“Bet making is not a Dad Approved Usage of Money.” Harry said, sighing. “Sorry. Can’t help you.”

“Is there a list?” Hermione asked, curious.

“Oh yeah.” Harry nodded. “It’s to teach us financial responsibility or something. I’m pretty sure Mum’s responsible for at least half of it, but hey. Good message.”

“Are you and George spending the money from the betting pools on Weasley Wizard Wheezes?” Ron asked. “Speaking of which, where’d George go? It’s freaking me out, only talking to one of you.”

“Lee’s gone too.” Harry pointed out. “What’s that about?”

“Oh, they’re off swapping spit, somewhere.” Fred said. Despite his lopsided grin, there was something uncomfortable in his eyes, like he didn’t know how to process George running off with his best friend. “Told ‘em I’d watch the task, but I didn’t imagine it’d be so dull.”

“Yeah, I mean, we’re basically watching leaves.” Harry shrugged, looking over the outside of the maze again. “That’s not fun unless they’re on the floor and you can jump in them.”

“I think a hedge maze could be fun.” Ron said. “Y’know. If we were in it, instead of staring at the outside.”

“Being inside it would be an adventure.” Hermione spoke up. “Staring at it, not so much.”

“Probably dealing with all sorts of fun things, in there.” Fred said. “I heard they were sticking Hagrid’s blast ended skrewts inside.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and someone’ll kill them.” Harry said hopefully.

“I don’t think listening to Hagrid cry makes us lucky, Harry.” Ron winced. 

“I forgot about that part.” Harry said morosely. “Fine, as long as we don’t have to bother with the Skrewts next year.”

“Don’t say that.” Ron grimaced. “Hagrid’ll come up with something even worse for us to take care of.”

“True.” Harry shuddered. “I can’t believe we thought it would end with dragons. No, it’s just getting worse and worse.”

There was a sudden commotion down on the field. Before the task had begun, the professors had set up a winner’s platform. It had been rather plain looking, before, but now a figure stood atop it. There was a gleaming cup clutched in her hands, silvery blue surface reflecting the firelight of the torches set up around the edge of the maze. Her silvery hair fell in disarray down her back, though it did nothing to detract from the beauty of her shocked face.

A tense silence fell over the crowd. Fleur Delacour had arrived back at the start of the maze. And then, the screams began. 

Cheers rose up from students of all the schools, though the Beauxbatons students were certainly the loudest ruckus. Music struck up from seemingly nowhere, and Fred’s loud whistle was nearly drowned out by the cacophony of noises. “Didn’t see that coming!” He shouted, before disappearing into the stands.

“Are they just going to leave everyone else in there, if the cup was a Portkey?” Harry looked to Hermione, worried. It was certainly believable, given the frankly horrible precedent Hogwarts’ staff had set up for themselves.

“I don’t know.” Hermione frowned. “They likely have some system in place, to tell the champions inside the maze that someone’s won.”

“Hermione, as eleven year olds, we disabled the protective challenges of about seven professors at this school and stole an incredibly powerful magical item.” Harry deadpanned. “They don’t have a system, and if they do, it’s not worth crap.”

“It isn’t like they’ll just leave them in the maze.” Ron shouted, shoving at someone rushing past him and towards the field. A few moments later, the side of the maze rustled ominously, before opening wide. Viktor Krum stepped out, his chin held high despite the disappointment on his face.

“Just Cedric left, then.” Harry said, a little disappointed that Hogwarts was going to come third in the task. Maybe even in the tournament, depending on the points awarded.

Cedric emerged a few moments later, taking his place next to Fleur and Viktor on the platform. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Dumbledore announced, “our Triwizard Champion-- Fleur Delacour!” The crowd erupted into a fresh bout of cheering, prompting Ron to clap a bit.

Harry clapped as well, glad that all three champions had safely gotten out of the maze without, as far as he knew, any major injuries. 

The Triwizard Tournament, after eating up so much of their school year, was finally over, along with exams. Soon enough, he’d be on the train home for the summer. And still, everything was blissfully normal. Despite all expectations of a year just like any other, there had been no magical snakes, no magical rocks, and certainly no escaped prisoners. The tournament was the most dangerous thing Harry could have thought of, and somehow, nothing had come of it. 

Everyone was fine, and safe, and that was a good enough reason to clap, in Harry’s mind.


	16. The Graveyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thin man stepped forward, red eyes terrifying bright against the stark white of his skin. Where there should have been a nose there were only two slits, like that of a snake. His thin, colorless lips stretched into a smirk.
> 
> Lord Voldemort had risen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with us! One Good Year is officially the longest book yet (by almost 7,000 words), partially because this chapter alone comprises over 1/10th of the book's length, which is something Lai and I are finding incredible! This chapter's been written in our heads, in some way, since the very beginning of Rewrite-- this was one of the first few chapters we planned, joking about how we would never make it to this point. Less than two years from the start of Rewrite, here we are!
> 
> We have a lot laid out from here on out, so it's going to only get better and better. This is only a short look at the quality of fic you'll be getting from here, for sure. We've improved so much over the past four books, and that's going to make the rest of the series even more incredible than it is already!
> 
> Thanks so much for coming along for the ride and yelling at the characters with us every week. We will be taking next week off, because Lai's got some prior commitments, but we'll be right back on the 19th of February with the first chapter of Book Five. 
> 
> On a more serious note, warnings for Voldemort typical violence, torture and blood in the chapter below. If this bothers anyone, but you still want to know what happens, feel free to contact either one of us through tumblr, and we’ll be happy to give you the gist of it.
> 
> See you on the 19th, and have a great two weeks!
> 
> -S&L

“I almost don’t want this year to be over.” Harry said, slouching in his seat. “Cause, next year, we’ve got the regular exams, and then even more exams.”

“Don’t let Hermione hear you say that.” Ron said, ignoring the fact that Hermione was sitting beside him.

“Hermione did hear you say that.” Hermione pointed out.

“Add that to the list. Talking about herself in third person.” Harry piped up.

“There’s a list?” Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“We can’t read.” Ron deadpanned. “Or write, since we can’t read. So obviously there isn’t a list.”

“I’ve seen you write essays, Ronald.” Hermione began, then shook her head. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Sick burn you’ve got there, Ron.” Harry grinned at his friend. “Need some ice?”

“You’re terrible.” Ron groaned, pillowing his head on his arms. “You’re my friends, but you’re both terrible. And Harry needs new jokes. You just recycled that one from Drew.”

“Did not.” Harry pouted. Ron was right, though. He had. It was embarrassing, admitting his nine year old brother was just as good, if not better, at bad jokes than him, and as Harry often did to embarrassing things, he was going to ignore it. “That’s a serious accusation.”

“It’ll hold up in court.” Ron said. “I’ll call your siblings in as witnesses.”

“None of them would throw me under the bus. They love me.” Harry said. Another lie. They would all throw him under the bus, except maybe Matt.

“Sarah does it twice a day, at least. And Matt is a terrible liar. And Anne would if you looked at her the wrong way at breakfast. And Drew’d be mad you were stealing his jokes.” Ron propped his head up on his hand, grinning at Harry in a way that looked far too much like the twins.

“Your friends don’t suck.” Harry said, sighing melodramatically. “My friends suck. Except you, Hermione. You’re my rock.”

“Ron has a point, you know.” Hermione spoke up.

“Never mind.” Harry groaned. “I have no rock. I am rockless.”

“Matt can be your rock. As long as you don’t mind a rock that cries.” Ron reached out to pat Harry’s shoulder.

“That’s true. Matt loves me.” Harry said fondly.

“And you’ve got Neville.” Hermione added.

“And I’ve got Neville.” Harry said, cheerfully. He did have Neville, Ron was right. Harry could always count on Neville to be there for him, and often lauded Neville for the fact, although now, instead of saying it was what any good friend would do, Neville would now reply with “I’m your boyfriend, Harry, it’s what I should be doing”. Harry very much liked hearing Neville say that, and would bug him for hours just to get him to call Harry his boyfriend again and again.

“Gross.” Ron turned to Hermione. “If I ever get moon-eyed over a girl, you can hit me.”

“I’ll make sure to hit you, don’t worry.” Hermione said, nodding seriously. Harry was glad Ron had given Hermione a reason to hit him-- she had been looking quite tense, since the Third Task had ended, and when he’d asked, she’d just said that this was going to be an important summer for her, before going on and on about some new topic she was researching. She needed a way to get rid of all of that stress, and god knows hitting someone, especially hitting Ron, would do her some good. It always seemed to help Anne and Sarah. “You can count on me.”

“I’m going to regret this one day.” Ron said, worryingly at peace with this fact.

“You’ve got a lot of things to regret, really, if we start thinking about it.” Harry said, tossing a balled up piece of paper he’d found in the pocket of his trousers at Ron’s head. It hit him squarely in the nose, and Harry grinned. Perfect.

“Like being your friend.” Ron kicked at Harry’s leg, laughing loudly.

“Hey, you’ll never regret that!” Harry said, pulling his legs up onto the seat as he pouted. “I’m a great friend!”

“That’s a weird thing to say to a stranger.” Ron teased.

“You suck.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Not going to waste time on you then.” He got to his feet, walking toward the door. “Places to go, people to see.”

“People like Neville?” Ron shot back with a smile.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Harry shrugged dramatically. That was a good idea. He really only needed to use the bathroom, but he’d promised to stop by the compartment Neville, Ginny and Luna Lovegood were in to say hello before they reached London. Thankfully, Harry had absolutely remembered this all by himself, and did not need Ron Weasley to remind him of prior commitments at all. “I’m a man of mystery.”

“Tell him we said hello.” Hermione said, laughing.

“Make sure Ginny doesn’t see you canoodling.” Ron advised him. “She isn’t old enough to date yet, mum says.”

“Will do!” Harry smartly saluted Ron. He wasn’t sure how seeing “canoodling”, as Ron referred to everything from Harry and Neville holding hands to the occasional pecks on the cheek they’d share in public, would make Ginny want to date, but he’d rather stay on Mrs. Weasley’s good side. He’d seen firsthand what happened when you didn’t, and it was not something he wanted for himself. “We’ll find a bathroom or an empty compartment or something. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“I’ll pass.” Ron scrunched up his face. “Do not need to hear about that.”

“All the details, Ron!” Harry called over his shoulder, as he opened the compartment door and stepped out, shutting it behind him. This day was shaping up to be better and better as it went on-- hopefully this trend continued, and maybe Sarah and Anne wouldn’t pick fights with each other until tomorrow morning.

He walked down the hallway toward the bathroom, which was another car down, and he looked through the window into every compartment he passed in the hopes that he might see Neville on the way over. He caught a glimpse of him, for a split second, head thrown back in mid laugh as Luna said something or the other while adjusting a pair of pink, oversized glasses that were sliding down her nose, and Harry couldn’t help but smile at the sight of it.

That smile, unfortunately, didn’t last too long.

As Harry was passing from one train car to the next, there was a sudden shift of fabric. Harry spun around suddenly, not sure why the thought of someone close by unnerved him. He navigated much more crowded halls at school daily. But, once he saw who was following him, it was obvious why. A familiar rat was on the floor behind him, slowly shifting into an equally familiar human. Peter Pettigrew.

Harry backed away, eyes wide.

“SOMEONE HELP ME!” Harry yelled, looking around in the hopes that someone else was nearby. Usually at least a prefect would be patrolling, but the hallway was empty, save for himself and Peter. “THERE’S A CRIMINAL IN HERE! SOMEBODY!”

Before anyone could respond, and before Harry could even draw his wand, Peter lunged at him, nearly knocking Harry over. There was a short grapple for the upper hand, and, in one terrifying moment, the animagus pushed them both of them out of the moving train.

Harry barely had time to realize that he was no longer in the train before he was nearly swallowed whole by the sensation of being squeezed through a too small rubber tube, Peter’s hands still tight enough to bruise around his upper arms. Peter was Side Along Apparating him, but where to? They tumbled onto the ground a few seconds later, Peter losing his balance rather spectacularly, and Harry got to his feet as quickly as he could, brushing the dirt off of himself.

“Wh--Where are you taking me?” He asked, scanning his surroundings. There was nothing familiar, no landmarks he could discern that would tell him where he was. Peter had brought him to a graveyard, and a long unused one at that, from the looks of it. Moss covered most of the headstones in part, if not completely, and the ones that weren’t being reclaimed by the earth had been chipped away at by the weather. Many of the names had been rubbed away at by the wind and snow until only the faintest imprints of letters remained, rendering most of the stones nearly illegible. “Where are we?”

Peter didn’t answer, instead stumbling to his feet. He was still as thin as he had been when Harry had encountered him at the end of third year. His beady, watering blue eyes flickered from side to side, fingers grasping at the air in an absent manner.

“Where are we?” Harry asked more urgently, looking around again, as if he’d find that he’d missed something the first time. What had Amma taught him? Find an escape route, and keep as much distance between yourself and the aggressor as possible. He backed away from Peter as quickly as he could without arousing suspicion, looking for an escape route. There-- there was the gate to the cemetery! He could make it in under thirty seconds if he ran at top speed. Now all he had to do was keep Peter occupied for a second longer, and he could be out of here. There was bound to be a bus stop nearby, or if Harry got far enough, he could summon his broom with a quick Accio. It’s not like Peter could be too fast anyway-- according to his father, Peter had been chubby and unathletic in his school days, but now he, like Scabbers, just looked thin and frail, which likely wouldn’t help him chase Harry properly at all. “Where the fuck are we?”

Peter lunged at Harry for the second time, sharp nails digging into Harry’s arm as he forced him backwards. “Let me go!” Harry yelled, wrenching his arm away from Peter. It was significantly harder than he’d thought it would be-- Peter, though frail, seemed to be deceptively strong. He managed to slam him against a large tombstone, hissing threats under his breath all the while. A moment later he was conjuring tight cords, which sprung forward to bind Harry tightly against the rock.

Harry screamed in frustration as he fought against the restraints, trying his best to free himself. But the harder he fought, the tighter they grew, until he could hardly feel his hands and feet. He gave himself a moment to breathe, collecting himself before trying again.

“LET ME GO!” He roared, much to Peter’s amusement, straining hard against the cords. “LET ME GO!”

Peter kept his gaze averted, instead checking the tightness of the cords with shaking hands. When he was apparently satisfied with the knots, he turned and disappeared into the mist. Harry didn’t have to wait long, however, before he reappeared. He was levitating along what appeared to be the largest cauldron Harry had ever seen-- large enough to fit a full grown man, were he sitting.

He carefully settled the cauldron a few feet from the teenager, casting a furtive glance over his shoulder. A few moments and a quick wave of a wand was all it took to start a fire beneath it, and he was off again, winding through the gravestones and into the mist.

By the time he returned once more, the liquid inside was bubbling ominously, strange fumes enveloping the cauldron in a shimmery cloud.

There was a bundle of fabric held carefully in his arms, as though it contained something incredibly fragile and precious. At first, Harry assumed it was some sort of roadkill, which Peter had wrapped up in a blanket for some reason, until the fabric began shifting, and a cold voice rang out into the stillness of the graveyard.

“Hurry.”

“It is ready, Master.” Peter stuttered, kneeling down to place the bundle on the grass. He pulled away the fabric, revealing something that made Harry’s gut clench with horror.

Within the fabric was something the size of a crouched child. Its shriveled arms and legs were curled close to the slimy skin of its torso, which was mottled in an array of sickly colors. What was certainly the most terrifying aspect of the creature, however, was its face. It was flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes. Harry recoiled in fear, feeling bile rise in his throat. Who was that? What was that?

Peter gathered the creature into his arms again, stumbling to the cauldron. It sank into the liquid with a faint hissing noise, and Harry heard the soft thud as it made contact with the bottom of the cauldron.

“What’s happening?” He asked, voice shaking, as he looked around the cemetery, trying desperately not to look straight at the cauldron. He didn’t know what was happening, but it was certainly wrong, and most definitely illegal. “What’s happening?” He knew he would get no answers to his questions, but at least he could feel better for having asked in the first place.

He could feel his wand in his trouser pocket, nestled against his leg, and if he could just get a hand free, he could cut himself out of these ropes and run. He could escape. There was still hope. Harry discreetly tried to work a hand free, keeping an eye on Peter all the while.

Peter’s voice was shaking almost as violently as his hands as he spoke, his wand wobbling back and forth unsteadily as he raised it high in the air. “Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will revive your son.”

The ground at Harry’s feet gave way with a terrifying crack. Harry watched with a rising sense of horror as Peter levitated a fine stream of dust from the grave beneath him, directing it into the cauldron. The liquid hissed in response, sparking violently.

Was he meant to watch this? Harry decided against it, and went back to trying to wiggle his hand out of the ropes. Getting free would be a good idea, and as quickly as possible-- people making potions dark enough to require bones probably wouldn’t be too opposed to the idea of a child sacrifice.

Peter was crying now, whimpering and whining as he pulled a shining dagger from his over-sized cloak. “Fl-flesh of the servant w-willingly given… you will… re-revive your Master.” He sobbed.

He stretched his right hand out before him, holding it above the smoking cauldron. He raised the shaking dagger high into the air, and Harry felt his heart skip a beat. He swung downwards, and his piercing scream cut through the air. There was a splash as his hand landed in the potion, followed by anguished groaning. Harry barely kept back a wave of vomit, struggling harder against his bounds. This couldn’t be happening. If Peter had just cut off his hand, who knows what he would do to Harry?

Peter stumbled towards Harry, clutching the stump of his wrist to his chest as he raised the knife once more. Harry shuddered in fear,squeezing his eyes shut as he wished hard that he could be anywhere else but here. Evidently, he didn’t wish hard enough, as, when he opened his eyes, Peter was still advancing toward him, knife in hand.

“Blood of the ene-enemy… forcibly taken… you will resurrect… your foe.”

Peter pressed the dagger to the skin of Harry’s arm, drawing it down in a shaking line. Harry howled as the knife sliced through the skin of his forearm, perhaps a little deeper than intended due to how he was struggling, and tried to kick out against Peter, despite the fact that his legs were securely restrained.

Peter dropped the knife, fumbling in his robe for a glass vial, which he held to the cut. Once he’d collected a suitable amount of blood, he staggered back to the cauldron, pouring it inside.

The potion changed colors, throwing a dazzling array of bright sparks high into the air. Peter, his job done, slumped to the ground. Sobs and whimpers escaped him as he cradled the stump of his wrist against his chest.

Quite suddenly, the sparks extinguished themselves. A plume of white smoke rose from the cauldron, obscuring everything from view. For a moment, Harry was convinced it had failed. Relief bloomed warm and bright in his chest, and he heaved a deep sigh, hoping desperately that his suspicions would be confirmed.

His relief was short-lived, as he could suddenly make out the figure of a man in the smoke. He was tall, and skeletally thin, and Harry thought he looked a bit like what chalk would look like, if it were a person.

“Robe me.” Came the cold voice from earlier.

Peter, still sobbing, retrieved the bundle of fabric he had carried the creature in earlier. Unfolded, now, it was obviously a robe, which he quickly draped over his master’s head.

The thin man stepped forward, red eyes terrifying bright against the stark white of his skin. Where there should have been a nose there were only two slits, like that of a snake. His thin, colorless lips stretched into a smirk.

Lord Voldemort had risen.

Harry swallowed hard, stomach sinking so far that he thought it must be taking up residence in his feet. That strange lump, the one he’d called roadkill, had been Voldemort, and Peter had just-- he’d cut off his own hand and-- Harry could hardly make sense of what had happened. All he knew was that it had, and that the outcome was worse than he could have ever expected.

Lord Voldemort was back, and if Harry were to place a bet on the chances of his survival, he would most definitely bet against himself. It’s a pity Fred and George aren’t here, he thought. There was some good money to be made off of this.

Voldemort, for his part, seemed mostly preoccupied with examining his new body. His skeletal hands curled and uncurled in front of cold, unfeeling eyes. His steady gaze danced across the tips of his fingers, before he trailed them across his arm and down his chest. He procured a wand from within his robe, which he turned over in his hand before pointing it at the sobbing heap that was Peter Pettigrew.

Peter was promptly thrown against the tombstone Harry was tied to, before falling to the ground once more. Voldemort let out a high, mirthless laugh, as though this were greatly amusing.

Harry was frozen in fear as this all took place. There was no point running, now-- Voldemort could kill him without even thinking too hard about it. Harry was only a fourth year, and maybe he should have taken up his father’s advice on starting to revise for his OWLs early, because he had little on his side, save for fourth year spells that Voldemort likely knew like the back of his hand already. There was no way he could come out of a fight in one, still alive piece.

“My Lord…” Peter whimpered, shuffling on the ground. “My Lord… you promised…”

“Hold out your arm.” Voldemort said lazily.

“Thank you, Master…” Peter breathed, extending his bleeding stump. Hope was clearly painted across his face, hope and appreciation for his master, who would surely, surely reward him for his sacrifice.

“The other arm.” Voldemort said coldly, and Peter whimpered, but complied. He reached out, pushing back the sleeve of Peter’s robe and revealing the dark mark etched into his skin. A skull with a snake protruding from its mouth. He pressed his index finger against the brand, ignoring the way Peter’s whimpered sobs rose in volume, sounding even more anguished.

In the great pause that followed, Harry scanned the sky, wondering why Voldemort was so intently looking up at it. Suddenly, the Dark Mark appeared, black streaks shooting out of the skull as it opened its cavernous, yawning mouth. Those streaks headed at breakneck speed toward the ground, revealing themselves to be cloaked adults when they landed neatly on the ground, arranging themselves into a circle around Voldemort as if this was some long held ritual, practiced often to keep everyone well apprised of their positions and roles. Their silver masks, shaped like the skull still grinning devilishly in the gloomy gray sky, shone unnaturally bright, making Harry feel very much like he was trapped in the middle of a circle of people with mirrors for faces.

Harry tried to keep from looking too scared, shutting his eyes tightly. Appa had always said that, if you were in danger for any reason, thinking of God would get you through, as those who thought of him enough would get the help they deserved, as long as they weren’t faking it. It was like the story with Gajendran, Harry thought, only he was neither a king nor an elephant, let alone an elephant king, and Voldemort was much more terrifying than a crocodile.

Adhimoolame, Harry thought, rather loudly compared to the rest of his thoughts, and was slightly disappointed when it did nothing. Maybe Gajendran had eaten a weird plant and hallucinated the whole thing. It’s not like anyone could fact check an elephant.

“Ah, my Death Eaters.” said Voldemort quietly. “Thirteen years, since we last saw each other… and yet you answer my call so… promptly. As though it were only yesterday we last convened. We are still united beneath the Dark Mark, then!”

He swept down the line, his slit-like nostrils flaring slightly as he sniffed the air. “Or are we…? I smell guilt. Looking at all of you… whole and healthy. Powers intact. And yet, I cannot recall a single one of you who came to my aid… You, who swore eternal loyalty.”

No one spoke. The only sound came from Peter, who was still whimpering upon the ground.

“You must have believed me broken.” Whispered Voldemort, words echoing into the mist. “Thought I was gone? Dead? You slipped back amongst my enemies… pleaded innocence, and ignorance. Bewitchment.”

He paused in his pacing, red eyes sweeping across the silent row of hooded figures. “And I ask myself, how could they believe I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proof of my power when I was mightier than any wizard?” He scoffed. “And I must answer myself… Perhaps they thought there was a power greater than mine? Greater than Lord Voldemort? One that could vanquish me. Perhaps you all swear allegiance to that champion of muggles and mudbloods… Albus Dumbledore.”

At the mention of the headmaster’s name, several of the Death Eaters stirred. They shook their heads, murmuring denials. Voldemort ignored them.

“I am… Disappointed.” He intoned coldly. He turned, raising his wand at a seemingly random Death Eater. “Crucio!”

The figure fell, writhing and shrieking while those around him remained still. Harry’s eyes widened in fear as he watched the man scream in anguish, twitching wildly. When Voldemort raised his wand, the Death Eater lay, gasping.

“Forgive us, Master…!” He choked. “Forgive me!”

“Get up, Avery.” Said Voldemort softly. “You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. I have had thirteen years to think upon this betrayal. Thirteen years… That is what you owe me. Wormtail here has repaid some of his debt-- have you not, Wormtail?”

Peter’s only response was another sob.

“You returned to me not out of loyalty, but out of fear. You deserve this pain, Wormtail.” Voldemort said, the last few words delivered in the most cutting tone possible.

“Y-yes, Master.” He groaned. “Please…”

“Yet, you helped me return to my body.” Voldemort raised his hand again, observing it coolly. “Worthless and traitorous as you are… You helped me. And Lord Voldemort rewards those who help him.”

Voldemort raised his wand, whirling it through the air. A jet of what seemed to be molten silver sprang forth from the tip of his wand, writhing in the air. It slowly formed itself into a replica of a human hand, which descended upon Peter, fixing itself to his bleeding stump.

The silver hand scared Harry more so than the absence of a hand attached to Peter’s wrist-- he couldn’t shake the feeling that the gift wasn’t all that it seemed. Or, perhaps, Voldemort was sincerely rewarding a follower. Either way, Harry was willing to accept anything that might distract Voldemort from ending his life-- gave Harry more time to plan a possible escape, or at least get himself used to the idea of dying.

Peter shuffled forward, kissing at the hem of Voldemort’s robes and thanking him through his shaking breaths. When Voldemort spoke again, it sounded like a death sentence. “May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail.”

“No, My Lord… Never, Master…”

Voldemort turned to the circle, eyes seeking out a particular figure. “Lucius… I am told you have not yet abandoned the old ways, despite seeming… respectable to the public. Your exploits at the World Cup were entertaining, to say the least, but perhaps your energies would have been better suited in finding and aiding your master?”

“My Lord, I was constantly on alert.” Lucius Malfoy’s voice was quick to reply. “Had there been any sign, any whispers of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately. Nothing could have stopped me--”

“And yet you ran from my mark, last summer.” Voldemort hummed lazily, seemingly at ease despite Malfoy’s abrupt tensing. “Oh, I know all about that, Lucius. You’ve disappointed me… I expect more faithful service in the future.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Lucius whispered.

Voldemort searched through the line once more, eyes finally resting on two empty spaces. “The Lestranges should be here.” He sighed. “But they are locked away in Azkaban. They were faithful, certainly. Eagerly accepting imprisonment rather than renouncing me. They will be rewarded, upon their return.”

He continued down the line, occasionally mentioning a particular Death Eater, while leaving some in silence. They were all names Harry recognized from school, from the Slytherin side of every classroom. Crabbe, Goyle, Nott… Were these their fathers or uncles? Distant relatives? Regardless of the distance in relation, those Slytherin boys, who he mostly hated, save for Nott, were all tied to the Death Eaters by blood. That made them infinitely more dangerous, in Harry’s mind, and he swore that he’d keep a closer eye on Malfoy and his cronies, if he made it out of here.

Voldemort finally paused before a particularly large gap, face betraying nothing. “And here we have six missing Death Eaters. Three dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return… He will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever… He will be killed, of course. and one, who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already reentered my service.”

It must be Snape, Harry thought, frowning. This time, he was certain. In the past, he’d been quick to wrongly blame Snape, and although he’d never admit it aloud, it was certainly something that bothered him. This, though, he could blame Snape for with full confidence. He was absolutely the Death Eater Voldemort was speaking of proudly, and if (Harry paused a second, terrified by the fact that his faith in his prospects for survival had fallen so low) he made it back, he was telling all the adults, first thing.

“And of course… My most honored guest.” Voldemort turned now, fixing Harry with the weight of his gaze. “Harry Potter has joined us for my party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honor.”

He paced forward, robes swishing against the grass. Harry felt as if his heart was being squeezed, as Voldemort came closer and closer, breath catching in his throat. “The great story of my rebirth… it starts and ends with this young man…” He murmured. “I was ripped from my body… Less than a spirit, or a ghost… and yet, still alive. I, who had gone further down the road to immortality than any human has ever known… Evidently, my experiments were a success. I have conquered death.”

Harry would have backed away, if he were not tied to a gravestone, so instead, he focused his efforts on not making eye contact with anyone in particular, especially Voldemort. He returned to trying to free himself from his restraints, hoping that all that moving would’ve created some more room to pull his hand free. It hadn’t, but not trying would be wasting whatever time he had left. He owed it to himself, and to his family, to at least keep trying to escape for as long as he could.

Voldemort hummed to himself, sliding the tip of his wand along Harry’s jawline. Harry swallowed hard, trying his best to look defiant. “And to think… A silly little boy is all that stands in my way… Crucio.”

A flash of white hot pain nearly blinded Harry, and he felt as if all he could do was scream. Every nerve ending in his body felt as if it had been set alight and he thrashed around within his restraints, screaming until his throat felt raw and his lungs ached for lack of air. His thoughts felt sluggish and dull, leaving him nothing to distract him from the all consuming pain driving him mad.

Voldemort lifted his wand, ending the onslaught of pain, and circling Harry, a smirk on his face.

Harry felt like he could finally breathe again, and sucked in a few deep breaths, eyes wide. The absence of pain felt odd, jarring even, and he wondered how Avery had stood right up after this. How long had it been since he watched that? How long had it been since he was taken off the train? Had they reached London? Did his parents know he was gone?

Harry wanted to scream again, struck again by an intense wave of pain, but this had nothing to do with spellwork.

“How foolish to think anyone could be stronger than me… And to prove it, I’ll kill Harry Potter right now. Untie him, Wormtail, and we’ll see how well he fights when there is no one to take the fall for him.”

Peter stepped forward, raising his new silver hand and cutting through the binding. Harry stumbled away from the tombstone, embarrassingly unsteady on his legs as he took a few shaky steps forward. The Death Eaters assembled laughed coldly, as if Harry’s difficulty was worth laughing at, and Harry gritted his teeth, hand reaching into his pocket and closing around the handle of his wand.

“Raise your wand, Harry Potter.” Voldemort’s smile was as cold as the graveyard they stood in.

Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket, watching Voldemort in confusion. What was he trying?

“Duels, of course, must start with a bow.” He inclined his body slightly, smile never wavering. “Go on, then. Bow.”

Harry bowed just barely, not wanting to give Voldemort even the slightest bit of respect. There was no way he would win this duel, but he was absolutely going to try his hardest. That, maybe, would be some small comfort to his parents. He clutched the grip of his wand tighter, not wanting to make it obvious how much his hands were shaking. He didn’t know whether it was the after effects of the Cruciatus, or simply nerves, but he didn’t like it.

“So”, he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Do I go first? Or do you go first? What's the plan?”

* * *

Lily Evans Potter glanced away from the train, green eyes scanning the crowd of students and parents in mild confusion. Harry should have come running by now, chattering about the tournament and his friends and everything else under the sun. And yet, here she stood, accompanied only by her husband.

“I see Ron and Hermione…” She murmured. Sure enough, a bushy brown head of hair was bobbing through the crowd, Ron’s taller figure more easily discernable as he followed after Hermione. “Where’s Harry?”

Hermione seemed to have been looking for Lily, as she hurried over to the Potters, Ron at her side, the minute she noticed them. She looked extremely worried, glancing around as if looking for someone, before looking to Lily. “Mrs. Potter, have you seen Harry?”

“No, I haven’t.” A heavy feeling settled in her gut, and she immediately turned to search through the crowd again.

“We thought he went to sit with Neville, but we just ran into him and he said he hasn’t seen him since we boarded.” Ron told James, looking incredibly worried. “We’d hoped he’d just run off somewhere, maybe with Dean or Seamus…”

“Is he still on the train?” James asked, looking over the crowd of students once again. He was disappointed, however, as no familiar head of messy black hair was easily visible, and he could hear no yelling that wasn’t a Weasley. “I’ll go talk to the conductor. Maybe he just… fell asleep somewhere.” Anyone could tell that James didn’t believe his words, and was just looking for a reason to get himself out of the situation. He reached over to squeeze Lily’s hand before he ran off, weaving through the crowd in an effort to get closer to the train.

“Harry!” Lily cupped her hands around her mouth, suddenly shouting. Several people turned to look at her, but none were her son.

“He couldn’t-- He couldn’t have gotten off the train. You can’t get off the train.” Hermione said, looking to Ron worriedly.

“You can apparate off the train, if you know how to get around the wards. They’re weaker than the ones on the school.” Lily said, moving to push through the crowd. “Harry Potter, has anyone seen Harry Potter?”

The few people that replied to Lily hadn’t seen Harry at all, but most people just looked at her oddly, muttering under their breaths about mothers who didn’t even know where their children were.

James pushed through the crowd toward Lily, looking utterly devastated. Before he even spoke, she knew what he was going to say. “He’s-- He’s not on the train, Lily, he’s not on the train. His luggage is there, but he’s not.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and there was one terrifying moment where everything seemed to still. The chatter of the train station fell away, and had she not reached out to grasp the front of James’ shirt, perhaps she too would have fallen away.

“We are going to find our son.” She hissed, giving her husband a sharp shake. “And I am going to murder anyone who gets in our way.”

James nodded. “If they’re after Harry…” The fact that their other kids could realistically be next was something James was reluctant to speak aloud, but both he and Lily knew it was true. Thankfully, Sirius and Remus were with the other children at the moment, which certainly improved their chances.

“We have to find him.” James whispered, biting his lip. He didn’t know what they would do without Harry, but he sure didn’t want to find out.

* * *

“Oh, confidence. How satisfying it will be to crush your spirit.” Voldemort said.

Harry suddenly felt as if he had hit his stride again, the weird muddled feeling that had bothered him since the Cruciatus hit lifting. He was suddenly ready to go again, ready to show Voldemort what he was made of. His parents had raised him better than to resign himself to death-- no, he would fight back, just as they’d taught him to. He raised his wand, carefully watching Voldemort for any signs of an oncoming attack.

“Avada Kedavra!” Voldemort cried.

Harry dodged the green jet of light just barely, casting a Disarming spell at Voldemort.

Voldemort cast aside the spell with a flick of his wand, seemingly amused at the patethic resistance. “Expelliarmus? Is that all you have?”

There was a short pause, during which Voldemort seemed to be collecting himself as much as Harry was, before they both began attacking each other again, each throwing out a variety of spells in an effort to keep the other on his toes. Or, as Harry thought, Voldemort was keeping him on his toes, because he certainly wasn’t making any progress.

“Expelliarmus!” He cried out, in a last ditch effort to turn the tide in his favor, just as Voldemort called out another “Avada Kedavra”, and the two jets of light, red and green, met each other head on, the place where the beams met turning a warm, bright gold. Harry’s wand began vibrating in his hand, and he looked to Voldemort in confusion to see that he was in a similar situation, confusion evident on his face.

And then, just when Harry thought it couldn’t get any weirder, it did.

From Voldemort’s end of the spell, ghosts began popping out of the beam of light, almost as if the spell was regurgitating all those he’d killed. A silvery image of an old, wizened man, carrying a cane, sprung forth from the connection between the spells, looking quite shocked to be here. He was followed by a woman a bit younger than his parents, her hair tied up in braids. Harry looked around, deeply confused. What was this? No one he knew had mentioned any charm or spell that worked like this. And, from the look on Voldemort’s face, these weren’t just any people.

Suddenly, a dark skinned woman in her early twenties, with black, extremely curly hair that looked quite like Hermione’s, when she left it loose, appeared from the connection, and smiled brightly when she saw Harry, as if recognizing someone she knew. Harry, arms beginning to ache from the effort of holding onto his wand, could only muster an expression of vague confusion.

“Harry!” The woman said joyfully, before pausing. “Oh, you don’t remember me. That makes sense.”

“Who-- Who are you?” Harry asked, frowning.

“Dorcas Meadowes.” She said, as if expecting him to recognize the name, before shaking her head as he stared at her. “Never mind. I’m a friend of your mother’s. Harry, you have to let go of the connection.”

“What-- what do you mean?” Harry asked.

“This connection, it’ll keep making his wand vomit up spells until one of you breaks it. And if you break it first, you’ll have an opportunity to get out of here. You gain the element of surprise.” Dorcas said. “It’s scary, Harry, I know, but you can do it. You’re brave, just like your mother, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Harry said, managing a weak smile. He could feel tears filling his eyes, and tried to blink them away to avoid clouding his vision. “Just like my mother.”

“Then go on.” Dorcas said, pointing toward the golden light between the spells. “Break it. You can do it, Harry. We all know you can. All you’ve got to do is pull away and run. I’ll count you out to three, Harry, how’s that? One… two...”

Harry was nearly sobbing from the effort of holding onto the wand, now, but gripped it tighter with both hands to make sure he could keep a hold on it for a few more seconds.

“Three”, Dorcas said, and Harry jerked his wand away, severing the connection, and ran as quickly as he could, diving behind one of the larger gravestones.

There was a cry of frustration from Voldemort. “Potter is a coward! A coward like his mudblood mother!” He roared. “Refuses to fight me-- do you see what the wizarding world has fallen to? This is the boy that they have put their faith in! A boy that hides, like a scared child!”

Harry wanted to go home, he thought, clutching his wand as tightly as he could. He wanted to go home, where it was safe and warm, and his siblings and his parents would be waiting for him. He wanted his mother, like any child in danger would, and he wanted her now. He allowed himself a few quiet sniffles, trying to calm himself down, but he could not get rid of the thought coursing through his head. He wanted to go home. He wanted to go home. He wanted to go home.

Suddenly, he felt as if he was being squeezed through a large, rubber tube, just as he had when Peter took him off the train, and he fell face first onto a familiar street, hitting the pavement with a thud. He groaned from the impact, realizing belatedly that the arm of his shirt felt awfully sticky. He’d likely gone and Splinched himself. Perfect. His arms were shaking so badly that he couldn’t push himself up from the ground, even if he wanted to, but he doubted they could hear him, if he yelled from here. But, like everything else he’d done today, Harry thought, it was worth a shot.

“IT’S HARI!” He yelled, with all the strength he had left. He could see the steps leading up to the house only a few feet away, familiar old shutters in the front windows and the same old tire swing he’d played on with his siblings hanging from the tree out front. He knew the only reason he hadn’t gotten closer were the powerful wards around the house, but he’d made it. He’d made it home. He’d done it.

“I’M HERE!” He yelled, before dropping his head to the pavement again. He was so tired. Even moving seemed like it would be too much now. He wanted nothing more than to be inside the house, wanted nothing more than to hide in his mother’s arms forever, but it was just so tiring to keep awake. His thoughts were feeling all muddled again, like the only thing that had kept them clear was the adrenaline that had been coursing through his veins, and had now worn off slightly. The pain from his shoulder hit suddenly, consuming every thought, and his eyes filled with tears.

“Amma”, he croaked pitifully, all the screaming only making his already raw throat feel worse. She wasn’t coming. Harry’s eyes fell shut for a second, and he tried his best to conserve his strength, hoping that he could attempt to get up, after a few seconds of quiet.

Through the muddled haze of his mind, he could barely hear the pounding of footsteps against pavement. “HARI!” Came a familiar voice, cracking with the force of her shout. Several extra voices shouted along with her, but Lily Evans-Potter was the one to gather Harry into her arms, folding him quickly against her chest. “Hari- Hari, sweetheart, open your eyes!”

“Amma?” He said, forcing his eyes open just slightly. Oh, good, it was his mother. No wonder, he was feeling better already. He could tell it was her for sure, by the blurs of red and green-- oh, no, he’d gone and lost his glasses again. He was safe now, though. Even Voldemort couldn’t get to him when Lily Evans Potter was around.

“Oh, Hari.” Lily began crying, even as her other children crowded in close. Matt’s hands were yanking away the torn shreds of cloth that had once been Harry’s sleeve, taking in the damage to his arm through his own tears.

“Sarah, go contact your father.” Lily turned to her eldest daughter, gathering Harry up into her arms as she hurried back up the steps and toward the safety of the house.

“Amma, he’s back, he’s back, he’s back, you’ve gotta tell everyone.” Harry said urgently, once they were inside, clutching his mother’s shirt. “Nobody’s safe.”

“Who’s back, sweetheart?” Lily slid through the door that Drew held open, making a beeline for the first aid kit in the kitchen.

“Voldemort, he’s back.” Harry said, fighting back tears again. “He’s back. I brought him back. I brought him back.” Peter couldn’t have finished the ritual without his blood. Harry had brought Voldemort back. It was Harry’s fault.

“Shh, shh.” Lily smoothed back his hair as she placed him on the table, trying to hide her rising terror. “We’ll deal with it. You’re safe now, Hari. Everything is fine.”

“I brought him back.” Harry repeated, horrified.

“Appa’s on his way back.” Sarah said, re-entering the room. She carefully avoided looking at Harry, instead making a beeline for her mother’s side. “He says everyone stays inside for as long as we can, from now on.”

Matt was suddenly at his mother’s other side, placing the first aid kit on the table. It was a muggle one that Lily had always insisted on keeping around. She reached out to rip the rest of Harry’s torn sleeve off.

“Your father is right.” Lily said. “Go make sure Anjali and Adithya are safe, Charu. Madhav, get me a wet cloth. Hari, I need you to be strong for me. Can you do that, sweetheart?”

“I’m always strong.” Harry muttered, rolling his eyes.

Sarah nodded, before running off to go find her brother and sister. She paused in the doorway, as if she were going to say something, before shaking her head and running off again. Harry could hear her footsteps thumping up the stairs and into the room his brothers shared, where they had likely set up camp.

Lily took the wet towel from Matt, gently wiping away the blood from Harry’s arm. “What happened? I need you to tell me everything.”

“I was on the train.” Harry said, frowning. “And-- And Pettigrew was there, and he grabbed me and then we were in some creepy graveyard… And there was a potion, and a weird baby Voldemort and he took my blood and then Voldemort was a person again and then we duelled and there was this weird gold light connecting our wands.”

Lily’s eyes widened and her lips parted in shock. Her hand stilled for only a moment before she set the towel down, moving to rummage through the first aid kit. “I’m going to have to give you stitches.” She murmured. “Keep talking, Hari.”

“Not weirder than the ghosts. Did I mention the ghosts?” Harry said, frowning. “Amma?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Do you know someone named Dorcas Meadowes?” Harry asked.

Lily looked up at her son, a war of emotions waging on her face. “I did.” She said, after a thoughtful pause. “She was my friend a long time ago.”

“She says hello.” Harry said, thinking that Dorcas might like that. “And that you’re real brave.”

“The brave one tonight was you, Hari.” Lily reached out, cupping his face in her hands. “I’m so proud.”

Harry jerked his head away, frowning. “That’s-- That’s not it, I brought him back.”

“We can deal with that after I’ve patched you up, yeah?” Lily’s voice was thin with hidden tension, and the smile she offered was brittle.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, in a pattern that Lily seemed to recognize, before Harry could speak again.

Harry didn’t know he could feel so relieved, when his mother left him alone to answer the door, and he heaved a great sigh of relief. Good. He had no intention of telling her anything else, although he suspected she’d find out about the Cruciatus soon enough. His mother always had a way of finding out the things he didn’t want to talk about, but he would much rather have her find out on her own than say it to her face, even if that resulted in her getting angry.

A few seconds later, James Potter followed his wife over to the table, frowning as he looked over his son. “You alright?”

“Indha dhandattha thappichutten.” Harry muttered, and James groaned, shaking his head. (Well, I’m not dead yet!)

“The fact that he gets his coping mechanisms from you does not comfort me.” Lily sighed, threading a sterilized needle with surgical thread.

“Doesn’t comfort me either, don’t worry.” James sighed. “Right. Hari. Catch me up.”

“Well, Voldemort’s back.” Harry said, matter-of-factly. “Rest of it’s all just details.”

James’ expression darkened, and he nodded sharply. “You’re sure it’s him?”

“It’s him.” Harry said, and then pointed to the cut Peter had made in his forearm. “My blood’s what did it.”

“I’ll alert the Order. The other kids are upstairs?” James looked to Lily, who nodded. “I’ll go check on them. God knows they’re all terrified. Hari, be good for your mother.”

“Yeah, no worries.” Harry said, before looking out the window. “Do your worst, Amma.”

The sky was a dismally bleak shade of gray, unlike the usual bright blue that usually came hand in hand with the month of June, and Harry wondered if it was a message being sent.

The storm that had been brewing quietly all year, hidden away in the background, was here. And its name was Lord Voldemort.

**Author's Note:**

> Lai and I love hearing your feedback! Leave a comment, or send us asks on tumblr at [ yamibakuraofficial (Lai) ](http://yamibakuraofficial.tumblr.com) or [desiprongspotter (Sriram)](http://desiprongspotter.tumblr.com)!


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